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ZOPHIEL. 


LONDON: 

C.  AND  VV.   REYNELL,  PRINTERS,   BROAD  STREET,    GOtDEN  SQUARE. 


ZOPHIEL; 


OR, 


THE   BRIDE  OF   SEVEN, 


MARIA  DEJ- 


BOSTON  : 
CARTER    AND    HfcNDEE. 

1833. 


TO 

ROBERT  SOUTHEY,  ESQ. 


OH  !  laurel'd  bard,  how  can  I  part, 
Those  cheering  smiles  no  more  to  see, 

Until  my  soothed  and  solaced  heart 
Pours  forth  one  grateful  ky  to  thee  ? 

Fair  virtue  tuned' thy  yocrfhfol  breath"  l  ,  r*. 

And  peace  and  pleasure  bless  thee  now ; 
For  love  and  beauty  guard  the  wreath 

That  blooms  upon  thy  roanly  brow. 

The  Indian,  leaning  on  his  bow, 

On  hostile  cliff,  in  desert  drear, 
Cast  with  less  joy  his  glance  below, 

When  came  some  friendly  warrior  near ; 

The  native  dove  of  that  warm  isle 

Where  oft,  with  flowers,  my  lyre  was  drest, 
Sees  with  less  joy  the  sun  awhile 

When  vertic  rains  have  drenched  her  nest, 

974CK59 


DEDICATION. 

Than  I,  a  stranger,  first  beheld 

Thine  eye's  harmonious  welcome  given 
With  gentle  word  which,  as  it  swelPd, 

Came  to  my  heart  benign  as  heaven. 

Soft  be  thy  sleep  as  mists  that  rest 
On  Skiddaw's  top  at  summer  morn  ; 

Smooth  be  thy  days  as  Derwent's  breast, 
When  summer  light  is  almost  gone  ! 

And  yet,  for  thee  why  breathe  a  prayer  ? 

I  deem  thy  fate  is  given  in  trust 
To  seraphs,  who  by  daily  care, 

Would  prove  th^t  he.ayen  is  pot  unjust. 

An4  tse^surecUshflll  jthine  image  b'err 
* 


While  truth  and  honour  glow  in  thee, 
Or  life's  warm  quivering  pulse  is  mine. 


Keswick,  April  18,  1831. 


PREFACE. 


IN  finishing  Zophiel,  the  writer  has  endeavoured  to  ad 
here  entirely  to  that  belief  (once  prevalent  among  the 
fathers  of  the  Greek  and  Roman  churches),  which  sup 
poses  that  the  oracles  of  antiquity  were  delivered  by 
daemons  or  fallen  angels,  who  wandered  about  the  earth, 
formed  attachments  to  such  mortals  as  pleased  them  best, 
and  caused  themselves,  in  many  places,  to  be  adored  as 
divinities. 

In  endeavouring  to  give  authority  for  the  incidents  of 
the  story,  all  quotations  from  the  sacred  writings  have 
been  scrupulously  avoided ;  and  the  beings  introduced 
are  to  be  considered  only  as  Phoebus,  Zephyr,  &c.  under 
other  names. 

Most  of  the  systems  of  ancient  philosophy,  either 
Western  or  Oriental,  suppose  beings  similar  to  the  angels 
of  the  fathers,  and  differ  from  the  Mosaic  account  only  in 


V1J1  PREFACE. 

being  more  full  and  explicit.  Justin  Martyr  and  others 
supposed  that  even  Homer  borrowed  from  Hebraic 
records  and  traditions,  and  found  in  his  writings  the 
creation  of  the  world,  the  tower  of  Babel,  and  the  angels 
cast  out  of  heaven.  Hesiod's  beautiful  allegory  of 
"Love  calling  order  from  chaos,"*  may,  it  is  said,  be 
traced  to  the  same  source. 

The  fact  of  the  actual  existence  of  such  beings  as 
angels  are  represented,  it  is  for  others  to  question :  ac 
cording  to  all  that  is  related  of  them,  they  are  creatures 
superior  in  power,  but  endued  with  wishes  and  propen 
sities  nearly  resembling  those  of  mortals ;  and,  in  their 
attributes,  corresponding  almost  entirely  with  those 
deities  which  they  are  thought,  by  the  fathers,  to  have 
personated,  and  which  have  ever  been  a  subject  for 
poetry  and  fable. 

*  Vide  Brucker's  Historia  Philosophize. 


CANTO  FIRST. 


GROVE    OF    ACACIAS. 


ARGUMENT. 


Invocation. — Birth  and  description  of  Egla. — Egla,  alone  in  her  Grove 
of  Acacias,  is  visited  by  Sephora,  relates  an  event  that  took  place 
in  her  childhood,  and  reluctantly  consents  to  receive  Meles  in 
marriage. — Zophiel  sees  Egla  asleep  and  becomes  enamoured  of 
her. — Egla  is  wedded  to  Meles,  and  retires  to  the  bridal  chamber. 
— Zophiel  presents  himself  to  Egla,  offers  her  jewels,  declares  him 
self  her  lover,  and  accuses  Meles  of  crimes. — Egla  becomes  afraid 
and  refuses  to  listen  to  Zophiel,  who  disappears. — Meles  enters, 
approaches  the  couch,  and  dies  suddenly. 


CANTO  FIRST. 


GROVE    OF    ACACIAS. 


I. 

SHADE  of  Columbus,  here  thy  relics  rest ; 

Here,  while  these  numbers  to  the  desert  ring, 
The  self-same  breeze  that  passes  o'er  thy  breast,  (1) 

Salutes  me,  as  with  panting  heart,  I  sing. 

II. 

Madoc !  my  ancient  father's  bones  repose 
Where   their   bold    harps   thy    country's    bards   en- 
wreathed;  (2) 

And  this  warm  blood  once  coursed  the  veins  of  those 
Who  flourished  where  thy  first  faint  sigh  was  breathed. 

III. 

Heroes  departed  both,  if  still  ye  love 

These  realms  to  which  on  earth,  ye  oped  the  way, 
Amid  the  joys  that  crown  your  deeds,  above, 

One  moment  pause  and  deign  to  bless  my  lay ! 


4  CANTO    THE  FIRST. 

IV. 
Spirits,  who  hovered  o'er  Euphrates*  stream, 

When  the  first  beauteous  mother  of  our  race 
First  oped  her  mild  eyes  to  the  new  light-beam, 

And  in  the  lucid  wave  first  saw  her  own  fair  face  ; 

Did  then  yon  ocean,  in  its  bosom  press 
These  western  solitudes  ?  or  are  they  new 

Only.tfr  Ui£n  I     Was  this  sweet  wilderness, 
This  distant  world,  then  visited  by  you  ? 

V. 

If  ye  then  knew;  or  haply,  if  ye  here 

Come  wandering  now,  oh,  listen  !  nor  refuse 

Your  unseen  harps  a  moment  to  my  ear ; 

Of  one  like  you  I'd  sing :  whisper  my  trembling  muse  i 

VI. 
Rest  in  my  wild  retreat !   The  solar  fires 

Tell  on  this  glowing  cheek  their  fervid  powers ; 
Yet  'tis  the  ocean's  breath  my  lip  respires 

Grown  fragrant  in  its  course  o'er  thousand  shrubs  and 
flowers, 

VII. 
The  time  has  been ; — this  holiest  records  tell, — 

When  restless  spirits  raised  a  war  in  heaven ; 
Great  was  the  crime,  and  banished  thence  they  fell 

To  depths  unknown ;  yet  kept  the  potence,  given 


GROVE   OF   ACACIAS. 


For  nobler  use,  to  tempt  the  hapless  race 

Of  feeble  mortals,  that  but  form  a  grade 
'Twixt  spirits  and  the  courser  of  the  chase. 

Man,  thing  of  heaven  and  earth,  why,  thou  wert  made, 


Ev'n  spirits  knew  not  I  yet  they  loved  to  sport 

'     With  thy  mysterious  mind ;  and  lent  their  powers, 

The  good  to  benefit,  the  ill  to  hurt. 

Dark  fiends  assailed  thee,  in  thy  dangerous  hours, 


But  better  angels  thy  far  perils  eyed ; 

And  often,  when  in  heaven  they  might  have  stayed, 
Came  down  to  watch  by  some  just  hero's  side, 

Or  meet  the  aspiring  love  of  some  high-gifted  maid. 

VIII. 
Blest  were  those  days !  Can  these  dull  ages  boast 

Aught  to  compare  ?  though  now  no  more  beguile, 
Chained  in  their  darkling  depths,  the  infernal  host;* 

Who  would  not  brave  a  fiend  to  share  an  angel's  smile  ? 


*  From  the  cessation  of  oracles,  at  the  death  of  the  Founder  of 
our  religion,  the  old  Christian  fathers  inferred  that  the  demons  who 
uttered  them,  were  at  that  time  confined. 


6  CANTO   THE    FIRST. 

IX. 
'Twas  then  there  lived  a  captive  Hebrew  pair; 

In  woe  the  embraces  of  their  youth  had  past; 
And  blest  their  paler  years  one  daughter  ;  fair 

She  flourished,  like  a  lonely  rose,  the  last 


And  loveliest  of  her  line.     The  tear  of  joy, 
The  early  love  of  song,  the  sigh  that  broke 

From  her  young  lip,  the  best  beloved  employ ; 
What  womanhood  disclosed,  in  infancy  bespoke 

X. 

A  child  of  passion :  tenderest  and  best 

Of  all  that  heart  has  inly  loved  and  felt, 
Adorned  the  fair  enclosure  of  her  breast : 

Where  passion  is  not  found,  no  virtue  ever  dwelt. 

XI. 
Yet,  not,  perverted,  would  my  words  imply 

The  impulse  given  by  Heaven's  great  Artisan 
Alike  to  man  and  worm,  mere  spring,  whereby 

The  distant  wheels  of  life,  while  time  endures,  roll  on  : 


But  the  collective  attributes  that  fill, 

About  the  soul,  their  all-important  place; 

That  feed  her  fires,  empower  her  fainting  will, 
And  write  the  God  on  feeble  mortal's  face. 


GROVE   OF    ACACIAS.  7 

XII. 

Yet  anger,  or  revenge,  envy  or  hate, 

The  damsel  knew  not :  when  her  bosom  burned 

And  injury  darkened  the  decrees  of  fate, 

She  had  more  piteous  sighed  to  see  that  pain  returned. 

XIII. 
Or  if,  perchance,  though  formed  most  just  and  pure, 

Amid  their  virtue's  wild  luxuriance  hid, 
Such  germs,  all  mortal  bosoms  must  immure 

Which  sometimes  show  their  poisonous  heads,  unbid, — 


If,  haply  such  the  fair  Judean  finds, 

Self  knowledge  wept  the  abasing  truth  to  know  ; 
And  innate  Pride,  that  queen  of  noble  minds, 

Crushed  them  indignant  ere  a  bud  could  grow. 

XIV. 
And  such,  even  now,  in  earliest  youth  are  seen ; 

But  would  they  live,  with  armour  more  deform 
Their  breasts  made  soft  by  too  much  love  must  screen  : — 
"  The  bird  that  sweetest  sings  can  least  endure  the 
storm.'* 

XV. 
And  yet,  despite  of  all,  the  starting  tear, 

The  melting  tone,  the  blood  suffusive,  proved, 

The  soul  that  in  them  spoke,  could  spurn  at  fear 

Of  death  or  danger ;  and  had  those  she  loved 


CANTO   THE    FIRST. 


Required  it  at  their  need,  she  could  have  stood, 
Unmoved,  as  some  fair-sculptured  statue,  while 

The  dome  that  guards  it  earth's  convulsions  rude 
Are  shivering,  meeting  ruin  with  a  smile. 

XVI. 
And  this  at  intervals  in  language  bright 

Told  her  blue  eyes ;  though  oft  the  tender  lid 
Drooped  like  a  noon-day  lily,  languid,  white — 

And  trembling  all  save  love  and  lustre  hid ; 


Then,  as  young  Christian  bard  had  sung,  they  seemed 
Like  some  Madonna  in  his  soul,  so  sainted; 

But  opening  in  their  energy  they  beamed 
As  tasteful  Grecians  their  Minerva  painted ; 


While  o'er  her  graceful  shoulder's  milky  swell, 
Silky  as  those  on  little  children  seen, 

Yet  thick  as  Indian  fleece  her  ringlets  fell, 
Nor  owned  Pactolus'  sands  a  brighter  sheen. 

XVI. 

And  now,  full  near,  the  hour  unwished  for  drew, 
When  fond  Sephora  hoped  to  see  her  wed ; 

And,  for  'twould  else  expire,  impatient  grew 
To  renovate  her  race  from  beauteous  Egla's  bed. 


GROVE   OF   ACACIAS. 

XVII. 
None  of  their  kindred  lived  to  claim  her  hand, 

But  stranger-youths  had  asked  her  of  her  sire 
With  gifts  and  promise  fair :  he  could  withstand 

All  save  her  tears ;  and  harkening  her  desire 


Still  left  her  free  ;  but  soon  her  mother  drew 
From  her  a  vow,  that  when  the  twentieth  year* 

Its  full  fair  finish  o'er  her  beauty  threw, 
If  what  her  fancy  fed  on,  came  not  near, 


She  would  entreat  no  more,  but  to  the  voice 

Of  her  light-giver  hearken ;  and  her  life 
And  love,  all  yielding  to  that  kindly  choice, 

Would  hush  each  idle  wish  and  learn  to  be  a  wife. 

XVIII. 
Now  oft  it  happ'd,  when  morning  task  was  done, 

And  lotted  out,  for  every  household  maid, 
Her  light  and  pleasant  toil ;  ere  yet  the  sun 

Was  high,  fair  Egla  to  a  woody  shade, 

*  Twenty  years,  among  the  Spartans,  was  the  age  required  by 
the  law  for  the  marriage  of  women ;  and  in  whatever  climate  they 
may  live,  it  is  seldom  that  they  attain  their  full  height  and  pro 
portion  before  that  age.  If  this  custom  of  the  Spartans  could  be 
everywhere  observed,  it  is  probable  the  strength  and  beauty  of  the 
race  would  be  improved  by  it. 


10  GROVE   OF   ACACIAS. 


Loved  to  retire.     Acacias  here  inclined 

Their  friendly  heads,  in  thick  profusion,  planted, 

And  with  a  thousand  tendrils  clasped  and  twined ; 
And  when  at  fervid  noon  all  nature  panted, 


Enwoven  with  their  boughs,  a  fragrant  bower 

Inviting  rest  its  mossy  pillow  flung ; 
And  here  the  full  cerulean  passion-flower, 

Climbing  among  the  leaves,  its  mystic  symbols  hung.  (3) 

XIX. 

And  though  the  sun  had  gained  his  utmost  height, 

Just  as  he  oped  its  vivid  folds  at  dawn, 
Looked  still,  that  tenderest,  frailest  child  of  lighit, 

By  shepherds  named  "  the  glory  of  the  morn." 

XX. 

Sweet  flower,  thou'rt  lovelier  even  than  the  rose  : 
The  rose  is  pleasure,— felt  and  known  as  such — 

Soon  past,  but  real, — tasted,  while  it  glows ; 
But  thou,  too  bright  and  pure  for  mortal  touch, 


Art  like  those  brilliant  things  we  never  taste 
Or  see,  unless  with  Fancy's  lip  and  eye, 

When  maddened  by  her  mystic  spells,  we  waste 
Life  on  a  thought,  and  rob  reality. 


GROVE   OF   ACACIAS.  11 

• 

XXI. 

Here,  too,  the  lily  raised  its  snow-white  head ; 

And  myrtle  leaves,  like  friendship,  when  sincere, 
Most  sweet  when  wounded,  all  around  were  spread ; 
And  though  from  noon's  fierce  heat  the  wild  deer  fled, 

A  soft  warm  twilight  reigned  impervious  here. 

XXII. 
Tranquil  and  lone  in  such  a  light  to  be, 

How  sweet  to  sense  and  soul !  the  form  recline 
Forgets  it  e'er  felt  pain  ;  and  Reverie, 

Sweet  mother  of  the  muses,  heart  and  soul  are  thine .!* 

XXIII. 
This  calm  retreat  on  summer  day  she  sought, 

And  sat  to  tune  her  lute ;  but  all  night  long 
Quiet  had  from  her  pillow  flown,  and  thought, 

Feverish  and  tired,  sent  forth  unseemly  throng 

*  It  is  impossible  for  those  who  never  felt  it,  to  conceive  the 
effect  of  such  a  situation  in  a  warm  climate.  In  this  island,  the 
woods,  which  are  naturally  so  interwoven  with  vines,  as  to  be 
impervious  to  a  human  being,  are,  in  some  places,  cleared  and 
converted  into  nurseries,  for  the  young  coffee-trees,  which  remain 
sheltered  from  the  sun  and  wind,  till  sufficiently  grown  to  transplant. 
To  enter  one  of  these  "  semilleros,"  as  they  are  here  called,  at 
noonday,  produces  an  effect  like  that  anciently  ascribed  to  the 
waters  of  Lethe.  After  sitting  down  upon  the  trunk  of  a  fallen 
cedar  or  palm-tree,  and  breathing  for  a  moment  the  freshness  of 
the  air  and  the  odour  of  the  passion-flower,  which  is  one  of  the 


12  CANTO   THE    FIRST. 


Of  boding  images.     She  scarce  could  woo 
One  song  reluctant,  ere  advancing  quick 

Through  the  fresh  leaves,  Sephora's  form  she  knew, 
And  duteous  rose  to  meet :  but  fainting,  sick, 


Her  heart  sank  tremulously  in  her  ;  why 
Sought  out  at  such  an  hour,  it  half  divined ; 

And  seated  now  beside,  with  downcast  eye, 
And  throbbing  pulse  she  met  the  pressure  kind, 


And  warmly  given ;  while  thus  the  matron  fair, 

Though  marred  by  grief  and  time,  with  soothing  word, 

Solicitous,  and  gently  serious  air, 
The  purpose  why  she  hither  came  preferr'd. 

most  abundant,  and  certainly  the  most  beautiful  of  the  climate ; 
the  noise  of  the  trees,  which  are  continually  kept  in  motion  by  the 
trade  winds ;  the  fluttering  and  various  notes  (though  not  musical) 
of  the  birds  ;  the  loftiness  of  the  green  canopy,  for  the  trunksvof 
the  trees  are  bare  to  a  great  height,  and  seem  like  pillars  supporting 
the  thick  mass  of  leaves  above  ;  and  the  soft  peculiar  light  which 
the  intense  ray  of  the  sun,  thus  impeded,  produces ;  have  altogether 
such  an  effect,  that  one  seems  involuntarily  to  forget  everything 
but  the  present,  and  it  requires  a  strong  effort  to  rise  and  leave 
the  place. 


GROVE   OF   ACACIAS.  13 

XXIV. 

"  Egla,  my  hopes  thou  knowest,  though  exprest 
Not  oft,  lest  they  should  pain  thee ;  I  have  dealt 

Not  rudely  with  thy  fancies,  yet  my  breast 
Retains  the  wish  most  vehemently  felt. 


"  Know,  I  have  marked  that  when  the  reason  why 
Thou  still  wouldst  live  in  virgin  state,  thy  sire 

Has  prest  thee  to  impart,  quick  in  thine  eye 

Semblance  of  hope  has  played  ;  fain  to  transpire, 


"  Words  seemed  to  seek  thy  lip ;  but  the  bright  rush 
Of  heart-blood  eloquent,  alone  would  tell 

In  the  warm  language  of  a  rebel  blush 

What  thy  less  treacherous  tongue  had  guarded  well. 

XXV. 

"  Is  the  long  frequent  day  spent  lonely  here  ? 

Or  haply,  rather,  hath  some  stranger  youth —  ? 
Then  Egla ;  see  my  heart ! "     "  Oh,  mother  dear, 

Distrust  my  wisdom  ;  but  regard  my  truth  ! 

XXVI. 

"  Long  time  ago,  while  yet  a  twelve  year's  child, 
These  shrubs  and  vines  new-planted  near  this  spot, 

I  sat  me,  tired  with  pleasant  toil,  and  whiled 
Away  the  time,  with  lute ;  and  often  thought 


14  CANTO   THE   FIRST. 


"  Of  the  lost  land  thou  lovest ;  every  scene 

Which  thou  so  oft,  when  I  had  climbed  thy  knee, 

Wouldst  sing  of,  weeping,  through  my  mind  had  been 
In  fair  succession,  when  from  yon  old  tree 


"  I  heard  a  pitious  moan.     Wondering  I  went 

And  found  an  aged  man  ;  worn  and  oppressed 
He  seemed  with  toil ;  and  said  in  whispers  faint, 
'  Oh,  little  maiden,  how  I  am  distrest ! 


" c  I  sink  for  very  want.     Give  me,  I  pray, 
A  drop  of  water  and  a  cake :  I  die 

Of  thirst  and  hunger ;  yet  my  sorrowing  way 
May  tread  once  more,  if  thou  my  need  supply.' 

XXVII. 
"  A  long  time  missing  from  thy  gentle  arms, 

It  chanced  that  day  was  sent  me,  in  the  shade, 
New  bread,  a  cake  of  figs,  and  wine  of  palms,* 

Mingled  with  water,  sweet  with  honey  made. 


*  "The  palm  is  a  very  common  plant  in  this  country  (Media), 
and  generally  fruitful :  this  they  cultivate  like  fig-trees,  and  it 
produces  them  bread,  wine,  and  honey."  See  Beloe's  notes  to  his 
translation  of  Herodotus.  Mr  Gibbon  adds,  that  the  diligent 


GROVE   OF   ACACIAS.  15 

XXVIII. 
"  These  brought  I  to  him ;  tried  to  raise  his  head ; 

Held  to  his  lip  the  cup ;  and,  while  he  quaffed, 
Upon  my  garment  wiped  the  tears  that  sped 

Adown  his  silvery  beard,  and  mingled  with  the  draught. 

XXIX. 

"  When,  gaining  sudden  strength,  he  raised  his  hand, 
And  in  this  guise  did  bless  me ;  '  Mayst  thou  be 

A  crown  to  him  who  weds  thee !     In  a  land 
Far  distant  dwells  a  captive! — Hearken  me, 


"  '  And  chuse  thee  now  a  bridegroom  meet.     To-day 
O'er  brOad  Euphrates'  steepest  banks  a  child 

Fled  from  his  youthful  nurse's  arms;  in  play 
Elate,  he  bent  him  o'er  the  brink,  and  smiled 

?  *^i> 

"  (  To  see  their  fears  who  followed  him ;  but  who 
The  keen  wild  anguish  of  that  scene  can  tell ! 

He  bent  him  o'er  the  brink ;  and,  in  their  view, 
But  ah  !  too  far  beyond  their  aid,  he  fell. 


natives  celebrated,  either  in  verse  or  prose,  three  hundred  and 
sixty  uses  to  which  the  trunk,  the  branches,  the  leaves,  the  juice, 
and  the  whole  of  this  plant  were  applied.  Nothing  can  be  more 
curious  and  nteresting  than  the  natural  history  of  the  palm  tree. 


10  CANTO   THE   FIRST. 

XXX. 

",'  They  wailed ;  the  long  torn  ringlets  of  their  hair 
Bestrewed  the  ambient  gale ;  deep  rolled  the  stream 

And  swallowed  the  fair  child ;  no  succour  there !  * 
They,  women ; — whither  look  ? — who  to  redeem 


*  The  women,  among  all  the  nations  of  antiquity,  were  ac 
customed  to  express  violent  grief,  by  tearing  their  hair.  This 
must  have  been  a  great  and  affecting  sacrifice  to  the  object  bemoaned, 
as  they  considered  it  a  part  of  themselves,  and  absolutely  essential 
to  their  beauty.  Fine  hair  has  been  a  subject  of  commendation 
among  all  people,  and  particularly  the  ancients.  Cyrus,  when  he 
went  to  visit  his  uncle  Astyages,  found  him  with  his  eyelashes 
coloured  and  decorated  with  false  locks  ;  the  first  Caesar  obtained 
permission  to  wear  the  laurel  wreath,  in  order  to  conceal  the  bare 
ness  of  his  temples.  The  quantity  and  beauty  of  the  hair  of 
Absalom,  is  commemorated  in  holy  writ  The  modern  oriental 
ladies  also  set  the  greatest  value  on  their  hair,  which  they  braid 
and  perfume.  Thus  the  poet  Hafiz,  whom  Sir  William  Jones  styles 
the  Anacreon  of  Persia. 

"These  locks,  each  curl  of  which  is  worth  a  hundred  musk-bags 
of  China,  would  be  sweet  indeed,  if  their  scent  proceeded  from 
sweetness  of  temper." 

And  again,  "  When  the  breeze  shall  waft  the  fragrance  of  thy 
locks  over  the  tomb  of  Hafiz,  a  thousand  flowers  shall  spring  from 
out  the  earth  that  hides  his  corse." 

Achilles  clipped  his  yellow  locks,  and  then  threw  them  as  a 
sacrifice  upon  the  funeral  pyre  of  Patroclus.  The  women  of  the 
Aborigines  of  America  cut  off  locks  of  their  long  black  hair,  and 
strew  them  upon  the  graves  of  their  husbands. 


GROVE   OF   ACACIAS.  17 


"  '  What  the  fierce  waves  were  preying  on  ?  When  lo  ! 

Approached  a  stranger  boy.     Aside  he  flung, 
Quick  as  a  thought,  his  quiver  and  his  bow, 

And  parted  by  his  limbs  the  sparkling  billows  sung. 

XXXI. 

"  '  They  clung  to  an  old  palm  and  watched ;  nor  breath 

Nor  word  dared  utter ;  while  the  refluent  blood 
Left  on  each  countenance  the  hue  of  death, 

Oped  lip  and  far-strained  eye  spoke  worse  than  death 
endured. 

XXXII. 

"  '  But  down  the  flood  the  dauntless  boy  appeared, 
Now  rising — plunging — in  the  eddy  whirled — 

Mastering  his  course ;  but  now  a  rock  he  neared  ; 

And  closing  o'er  his  head,  the  dark,  deep,  waters  curled. 

XXXIII. 
"  *  Then  Hope  groaned  forth  her  last,  and  to  despair 

Yielded  with  shrieks ;  but  ere  the  echo  wild 
Had  ceased  to  thrill,  restored  to  light  and  air, 

He  climbs,  he  gains  the  rock,  and  holds  alive  the  child. 

XXXIV. 

"  *  Now  mark  what  chanced  !  that  infant  was  the  son 
Of  Babylon's  great  sovereign ;  soon  was  placed 

Before  his  throne  the  youth  who  so  had  won 
From  death  the  royal  heir.     A  captive  graced 


18  CANTO   THE   FIRST. 


"  '  All  o'er  with  nature's  gifts  just  dawning,  brave, 
And  panting  for  renown,  blushing  and  praised 

The  stripling  stood  ;  and  closely  prest,  would  crave 
Nought  but  a  place  mid  warlike  men ;  yet  raised 


"  '-To  his  full  wish,  the  kingly  presence  leaving, 

So  light  with  airy  hope,  his  graceful  feet 
Scarce  touched  the  marble  as  he  trod,  while,  heaving 
With  plans  to  please  his  sire,  his  heart  more  warmly 
beat. 

XXXV. 

"  '  But  when  his  mother  heard,  she  wept,  and  said, 

If  he,  our  only  child,  be  far  away, 
Or  slain  in  war,  how  shall  our  years  be  stay'd  ? 

Friendless  and  old,  where  is  the  hand  to  lay 


"  '  Our  white  hairs  in  the  earth  ?    So  when  her  fears 
He  saw  would  not  be  calmed,  he  did  not  part ; 

But  lived  in  low  estate  to  dry  her  tears, 

And  crush'd  the  full  ripe  wish  at  his  exulting  heart/ 

XXXVI. 

"  The  old  man  ceased ;  ere  I  could  speak,  his  face 
Grew  more  than  mortal  fair :  a  mellow  light 

Mantling  around  him,  filled  the  shady  place, 

And  while  I  wondering  stood,  he  vanish'd  from  my 
sight. 


GROVE  OF  ACACIAS.  19 

XXXVII. 

"  This  I  had  told,  but  shame  withheld,  and  fear 

Thou'dst  deem  some  spirit  guiled  me, — disapprove, — 

Perchance  forbid  my  customed  wandering  here. 
But  whencesoe'er  the  vision,  I  have  strove 


"  Still  vainly  to  forget.     Pve  heard  thee  mourn 
Kindred  afar,  and  captive : — oh  !  my  mother 

Should  he,  my  heaven  announced,  exist,  return — 
And  meet  me  here,  lost — wedded  to  another !" 

XXXVIII. 
Then  thus  Sephora :  "  In  the  city  where 

Our  distant  kindred  dwelt,  blood  has  been  shed. 
Fond  dreamer,  had  thy  visioned  love  been  there ! 

Ere  now  he's  sleeping  with  the  silent  dead. 

XXXIX. 

"  Or  doth  he  live,  he  knows  not — would  not  know, 
(Thralled,  dead  to  thee,  in  some  fair  Syrian's  arms,) 

Who  pines  for  him  afar  in  fruitless  woe, 

And  wastes  upon  a  thought  love,  life,  and  charms. 

XL. 
*  'Tis  as  a  vine  of  Galilee  should  say, 

Culturer,  I  reck  not  thy  support,  I  sigh 
For  a  young  palm  tree  of  Euphrates ;  nay, 

Or  let  me  him  entwine,  or  in  my  blossom  die. 


20  CANTO   THE   FIRST. 

XLI. 
"  Thy  heart  is  set  on  joys  it  ne'er  can  prove ; 

And,  panting  ingrate,  scorns  the  blessings  given. 
Hope  not  from  dust-formed  man,  a  seraph's  love, 

Or  days  on  earth  like  to  the  days  of  heaven  ! 

XLII. 
"But  to  my  theme;  maiden,  a  lord  for  thee, 

And  not  of  thee  unworthy,  lives  and  glows. 
Nay,  chase  the  dread  that  in  thy  looks  I  see, 

Nor  make  it  task  of  auguish  to  disclose 

"  What  well  might  be  delight.     Rememberest  thou 
When  to  the  altar,  by  thy  father  reared, 

As  we  went  forth  with  sacrifice  and  vow, 
A  victim-dove  escaped,  and  there  appeared 


"  A  stranger  ?     Quickly  from  his  shrilly  string 

He  let  an  arrow  glance;  and  to  a  tree 
Nailed  fast  the  little  tenant,  by  the  wing, 

And  brought  it,  scarcely  bleeding,  back  to  thee. 

XLIII. 
"  His  voice,  his  mien,  the  lustre  of  his  eye, 

And  pretty  deed  he  had  done,  were  theme  of  praise ; 
Though  blent  with  fear  that  stranger  should  espy 

Thy  lonely  haunts.     When,  in  the  sunny  rays 


GROVE   OF   ACACIAS.  21 


**  He  turned  and  went,  with  black  locks  clustering  bright 

Around  his  pillar  neck, — '  'Tis  pity  he,' 
Thou  said'st,  '  in  all  the  comeliness  and  might 

Of  perfect  man,  'tis  pity  he  should  be 


** '  But  an  idolater !     How  nobly  sweet 

He  tempers  pride  with  courtesy !     A  flower 

Drops  honey  when  he  speaks.     His  sandaPd  feet 
Are  light  as  antelope.     He  stands,  a  tower.' 

XLIV. 
"  That  very  stranger  sought  thy  sire,  and  swore 

For  thee  much  love ;  that  day  conceived  for  thee, 
To  be  a  false  idolater  no  more. 

'Tis  Meles,  late  returned  from  embassy 


"  To  distant  courts,  and  loved  by  the  young  king 
Of  Media.    Bethink  thee,  Egla ;  muse 

Upon  the  good,  union  like  this  may  bring 
On  thee  and  thine.     Yet,  if  thy  soul  refuse, 


"  We  will  not  press  thee.     Weep,  if  't  be  thy  will, 
Even  on  the  breast  that  nourished  thee,  and  ne'er 

Distrest  thee  or  compelled ;  this  bosom  still, 

E'en  shouldst  thou  blight  its  dearest  hopes,  will  share, 


22  CANTO   THE   FIRST. 


"  Nay,  bear  thy  pains.    But  sooner  in  the  grave 
'Twill  quench  my  waning  years,  if  reckless  thou 

Of  what  I  not  command,  but  only  crave, 
Canst  see  me  pine,  and  disregard  thy  vow. 

XLV. 
Then,  Egla,  "  Think  not,  kindest,  I  forget, 

Who  have  received  such  love,  how  much  is  due 
From  me  to  thee !  The  Mede  Til  wed  :  but  yet — 
Why  will  these  tears  gush  forth  ?  —  thus  —  in  thy 
presence  too ! " 

XLVI. 
Sephora  held  her  to  her  heart,  the  while 

Grief  had  its  way ;  then  saw  her  gently  laid, 
And  bade  her,  kissing  her  blue  eyes,  beguile 
Slumbering,  the  fervid  noon.     Her  leafy  bed 


Breathed  forth  o'erpowering  sighs ;  increased  the  heat ; 

Sleepless  had  been  the  night ;  her  weary  sense 
Could  now  no  more.     Lone  in  the  still  retreat, 

Wounding  the  flowers  to  sweetness  more  intense 


She  sank.     Thus  kindly  Nature  lets  our  woe 
Swell  till  it  bursts  forth  from  the  o'erfraught  breast ; 

Then  draws  an  opiate  from  the  bitter  flow, 
And  lays  her  sorrowing  child  soft  in  the  lap  of  rest. 


GROVE   OF    ACACIAS.  23 

XLVII. 
Now  all  the  mortal  maid  lies  indolent ; 

Save  one  sweet  cheek,  which  the  cool  velvet  turf 
Had  touched  too  rude,  though  all  with  blooms  besprent, 

One  soft  arm  pillowed.    Whiter  than  the  surf 


That  foams  against  the  sea-rock  looked  her  neck 
By  the  dark,  glossy,  odorous  shrubs  relieved, 

That  close  inclining  o'er  her,  seemed  to  reck 

What  'twas  they  canopied ;  and  quickly  heaved,  (4) 


Beneath  her  robe's  white  folds  and  azure  zone, 
Her  heart  yet  incomposed  ;  a  fillet  through 

Peeped  softly  azure,  while  with  tender  moan, 
As  if  of  bliss,  Zephyr  her  ringlets  blew 


Sportive ;  about  her  neck  their  gold  he  twined ; 

Kissed  the  soft  violet  on  her  temples  warm, 
And  eyebrow  just  so  dark  might  well  define 

Its  flexile  arch ;  throne  of  expression's  charm. 

XLVIII. 
As  the  vexed  Caspian,  though  its  rage  be  past, 

And  the  blue  smiling  heavens  swell  o'er  in  peace, 
Shook  to  the  centre  by  the  recent  blast, 

Heaves  on  tumultuous  still,  and  hath  not  power  to  cease; 


24  CANTO    THE   FIRST. 


So  still  each  little  pulse  was  seen  to  throb, 
Though  passion  and  its  pain  were  lulled  to  rest ; 

And  ever  and  anon  a  piteous  sob 

Shook  the  pure  arch  expansive  e'er  her  breast.* 

XLIX. 

Save  that,  a  perfect  peace  was,  sovereign,  there 
O'er  fragrance,  sound,  and  beauty ;  all  was  mute ; 

Only  a  dove  bemoaned  her  absent  phere, 
Or  fainting  breezes  swept  the  slumberer's  lute. 

L. 

It  chanced,  that  day,  lured  by  the  verdure,  came 
Zophiel,  a  spirit  sometimes  ill ;  but  ere 

He  fell,  a  heavenly  angel.     The  faint  flame 
Of  dying  embers  on  an  altar,  where 


Zoroh,  fair  Egla's  sire,  in  secret  bowed 
And  sacrificed  to  the  great  unseen  God,  (5) 

While  friendly  shades  the  sacred  rites  enshroud, 
The  spirit  saw;  his  inmost  soul  was  awed, 


*  Everyone  must  have  observed  this  effect  in  little  children 
who,  for  several  hours  after  they  have  cried  themselves  to  sleep, 
and  sometimes,  even,  when  a  smile  is  on  their  lips,  are  heard  from 
time  to  time  to  sob. 


GROVE   OF   ACACIAS.  25 


And  he  bethought  him  of  the  forfeit  joys 

Once  his  in  Heaven ;  deep  in  a  darkling  grot 

He  sat  him  down ;  the  melancholy  noise 

Of  leaf  and  creeping  vine  accordant  with  his  thought. 

LI. 
When  fiercer  spirits  howled,  he  but  complained  (6) 

Ere  yet  'twas  his  to  roam  the  pleasant  earth. 
His  heaven-invented  harp  he  still  retained, 

Though  tuned  to  bliss  no  more ;  and  had  its  birth 


Of  him,  beneath  some  black,  infernal  clift, 
The  first  drear  song  of  woe ;  and  torment  wrung 

The  restless  spirit  less,  when  he  might  lift 

His  plaining  voice,  and  frame  the  like  as  now  he  sung. 

LII. 

"  Woe  to  thee,  wild  ambition !  I  employ 

Despair's  low  notes  thy  dread  effects  to  tell ; 

Born  in  high  Heaven,  her  peace  thou  couldst  destroy ; 
And,  but  for  thee,  there  had  not  been  a  Hell. 


"  Through  the  celestial  domes  thy  clarion  pealed ; 

Angels,  entranced,  beneath  thy  banners  ranged, 
And  straight  were  fiends ;   hurled  from  the  shrinking  field, 

They  waked  in  agony  to  wail  the  change. 


26  CANTO   THE   FIRST. 


"  Darting  through  all  her  veins  the  subtle  fire, 
The  world's  fair  mistress  first  inhaled  thy  breath  ; 

To  lot  of  higher  beings  learnt  to  aspire ; 
Dared  to  attempt,  and  doomed  the  world  to  death. 


"  The  thousand  wild  desires,  that  still  torment 

The  fiercely  struggling  soul,  where  peace  once  dwelt, 

But'perished ;  feverish  hope ;  drear  discontent, 
Impoisoning  all  possest, — Oh  !  I  have  felt 


"  As  spirits  feel, — yet  not  for  man  we  mourn, 
Scarce  o'er  the  silly  bird  in  state  were  he, 

That  builds  his  nest,  loves,  sings  the  morn's  return, 
And  sleeps  at  evening ;  save  by  aid  of  thee. 


"  Fame  ne'er  had  roused,  nor  song  her  records  kept ; 

The  gem,  the  ore,  the  marble  breathing  life, 
The  pencil's  colours,  all  in  earth  had  slept, 

Now  see  them  mark  with  death  his  victim's  strife. 


"  Man  found  thee,  death  :  but  Death  and  dull  decay, 
Baffling,  by  aid  of  thee,  his  mastery  proves ; 

By  mighty  works  he  swells  his  narrow  day, 
And  reigns,  for  ages,  on  the  world  he  loves. 


GROVE   OF   ACACIAS.  27 


"  Yet  what  the  price  ?    With  stings  that  never  cease 
Thou    goad'st   him     on;     and  when   too  keen    the 
smart, 

His  highest  dole  he'd  barter  but  for  peace, 
Food  thou  wilt  have,  or  feast  upon  his  heart." 

LIU. 
Thus  Zophiel  still,  though  now  the  infernal  crew 

Had  gained,  by  sin,  a  privilege  in  the  world, 
Allayed  their  torments  in  the  cool  night  dew, 

And  by    the  dim    star-light    again  their  wings    un 
furled. 

LIV. 
And  now,  regretful  of  the  joys  his  birth 

Had    promised,    deserts,    mounts,    and  streams    he 

crost, 

To  find,  amid  the  loveliest  spots  of  earth, 
Faint  semblance  of  the  heaven  he  had  lost. 

LV. 

And  oft,  by  unsuccessful  searching  pained, 
Weary  he  fainted  through  the  toilsome  hours  ; 

And  then  his  mystic  nature  he  sustained 
On  steam  of  sacrifices,  breath  of  flowers.  (7)   , 


28  CANTO   THE   FIRST. 

LVI. 

Sometimes  he  gave  out  oracles,  amused  (8) 
With  mortal  folly ;  resting  on  the  shrines, 

Or,  all  in  some  fair  Sybyl's  form  infused, 

Spoke  from  her  trembling  lips,  or  traced  her  mystic 
lines.* 

LVII. 
And  now  he  wanders  on  from  glade  to  glade 

To  where  more  precious  shrubs  diffuse  their  balms ; 
And  gliding  through  the  thickly-woven  shade 

Where  the  soft  captive  lay  in  all  her  charms, 


He  caught  a  glimpse.     The  colours  in  her  face, 
Her  bare  white  arms,  her  lips,  her  shining  hair, 

Burst  on  his  view.     He  would  have  flown  the  place  ; 
Fearing  some  faithful  angel  rested  there, 


Who'd  see  him,  'reft  of  glory,  lost  to  bliss, 

Wandering,  and  miserably  panting,  fain 
To  glean  a  joy  e'en  from  a  place  like  this : 

The  thought  of  what  he  once  had  been  was  pain 

*  The  identity  of  Zophiel  with  Apollo  will  be  perceived  in  this 
and  other  passages. 


GROVE   OF   ACACIAS.  29 


Ineffable.     But  what  assailed  his  ear  ? 

A  sigh  !  Surprised,  another  glance  he  took ; 
Then  doubting — fearing — gradual  coming  near — 

He  ventured  to  her  side  and  dared  to  look  ; 

Whispering,  "  Yes,  'tis  of  earth !     So,  new-found  life 
Refreshing,  looked  sweet  Eve,  with  purpose  fell,' 

When  first  sin's  sovereign  gazed  on  her,  and  strife 
Had  with  his  heart,  that  grieved  with  arts  of  hell, 

Stern  as  it  was,  to  win  her  o'er  to  death. 

Most  beautiful  of  all  in  earth  or  heaven  ! 
c<  Oh,  could  I  quaff  for  aye  that  fragrant  breath ! 

Couldst  thou,  or  being  like  to  thee,  be  given 

"  To  bloom  for  ever  for  me  thus  !  Still  true 
To  one  dear  theme,  my  full  soul,  flowing  o'er, 

Would  find  no  room  for  thought  of  what  it  knew, 
Nor  picturing  forfeit  transport,  curse  me  more.  v(9) 


LVIII. 
"  But,  oh !  severest  curse !  I  cannot  be ; 

In  what  I  love,  blest  e'en  the  little  span] 
(With  all  a  spirit's  keen  capacity 

For  bliss)  permitted  the  poor  insect,  man. 


30  CANTO   THE   FIRST. 

LIX. 
"  The  few  I've  seen,  and  deemed  of  worth  to  win, 

Like  some  sweet  floweret,  mildewed  in  my  arms, 
Withered  to  hideousness  as  foul  as  sin, 

Grew  fearful  hags  j  and  then,  with  potent  charm 

"  Of  muttered  word  and  harmful  drug,  did  learn 
To  force  me  to  their  will.     Down  the  damp  grave, 

Loathing  I  went,  at  Endor,  and  uptorn, 
Brought  back  the  dead ;  when  tortured  Saul  did  crave 

"  To  view  his  lowering  fate.     Fair,  nay,  as  this 
Young  slumberer,  that  dread  witch ;  when,  I  arrayed 

In  lovely  shape,  to  meet  my  guileful  kiss 

She  yielded  first  her  lip.     And  thou,  sweet  maid — 

What  is't  I  see  ? — a  recent  tear  has  strayed, 
And  left  its  stain  upon  her  cheek  of  bliss. 

LX. 

"  She  has  fall'n  to  sleep  in  grief;  haply  been  chid, 
Or  by  rude  mortal  wrong'd.     So  let  it  prove 

Meet  for  my  purpose  :  'mid  these  blossoms  hid, 
I'll  gaze ;  and  when  she  wakes,  with  all  that  love 

"  And  art  can  lend,  come  forth.     He  who  would  gain 
A  fond,  full  heart,  in  love's  soft  surgery  skilled, 

Should  seek  it  when  'tis  sore ;  allay  its  pain 
With  balm  by  pity  prest :  'tis  all  his  own  so  heal'd. 


GROVE   OF   ACACIAS.  3J 

LXI. 
"  She  may  be  mine  a  little  year ;  ev'n  fair 

And  sweet  as  now.     Oh  !  respite  !  while  possest 
I  lose  the  dismal  sense  of  my  despair  : 

But  then — I  will  not  think  upon  the  rest ! 

LXII. 
"  And  wherefore  grieve  to  cloud  her  little  day  * 

Of  fleeting  life  ?    What  doom  from  power  divine 
I  bear  eternally:  pity — away  ! 

Wake,  pretty  fly !  and,  while  thou  mayst,  be  mine, 


"  'Though  but  an  hour ;  so  thou  supply 'st  thy  looms 
With  shining  silk,  and  in  the  cruel  snare 

See'st  the  fond  bird  entrapped,  but  for  his  plumes, 
To  work  thy  robes,  or  twine  amidst  thy  hair." 

LXIII. 
To  whisper  softly  in  her  ear  he  bent, 

But  draws  him  back  restrained  :  a  higher  power, 
That  loved  her,  and  would  keep  her  innocent, 

Repelled  his  evil  touch.     And  from  her  bower, 


*  Zophiel,  being  one  of  the  angels  who  fell  before  the  Creation 
was  completed,  is  not  supposed  to  know  anything1  of  the  immor 
tality  of  the  souls  of  men. 


32  CANTO    THE   FIRST. 


To  lead  the  maid,  Sephora  comes ;  the  sprite, 
Half  baffled,  followed,  hovering  on  unseen, 

Till  Meles,  fair  to  see  and  nobly  dight, 
Received  his  pensive  bride.     Gentle  of  mien, 


She  meekly  stood.     He  fastened  round  her  arms 

Rings  of  refulgent  ore ;  low  and  apart 
Murmuring,  "  So,  beauteous  captive,  shall  thy  charms 

For  ever  thrall  and  clasp  thy  captive's  heart." 

LXIV. 
The  air's  light  touch  seemed  softer  as  she  moved, 

In  languid  resignation ;  his  quick  eye 
Spoke  in  black  glances  how  she  was  approved, 

Who  shrank  reluctant  from  its  ardency. 

LXV. 
'Twas  sweet  to  look  upon  the  goodly  pair] 

In  their  contrasted  loveliness  :  her  height 
Might  almost  vie  with  his,  but  heavenly  fair, 

Of  soft  proportion  she,  and  sunny  hair ; 
He  cast  in  manliest  mould,  with  ringlets  murk  as  night. 

LXVI. 

And  oft  her  drooping  and  resigned  blue  eye 
She'd  wistful  raise  to  read  his  radiant  face  ; 

But  then,  why  shrunk  her  heart  ? — a  secret  sigh 

Told  her  it  most  required  what  there  it  could  not  trace. 


GROVE    OF   ACACIAS.  33 

LXVII. 
Now  fair  had  falPn  the  night.     The  damsel  mused 

At  her  own  window,  in  the  pearly  ray 
Of  the  full  moon ;  her  thoughtful  soul  infused 

Thus  in  her  words;*  left  lone  awhile  to  pray. 

LXVIII. 

"  What  bliss  for  her  who  lives  her  little  day, 

In  blest  obedience,  like  to  those  divine, 
Who  to  her  loved,  her  earthly  lord  can  say, 

*  God  is  thy  law/  most  just, '  and  thou  art  mine,' 


"  To  every  blast  she  bends  in  beauty  meek  ; — 
Let  the  storm  beat, — his  arms  her  shelter  kind, — 

And  feels  no  need  to  blanch  her  rosy  cheek 
With  thoughts  befitting  his  superior  mind. 


"  Who  only  sorrows  when  she  sees  him  pained, 
Then  knows  to  pluck  away  pain's  keenest  dart ; 

Or  bid  Love  catch  it  ere  its  goal  be  gained, 
And  steal  its  venom  ere  it  reach  his  heart. 


*  Coelestes,  or  the  moon,  was  adored  by  many  of  the  Jewisk 
women,  as  well  as  the  Carthaginians.  They  addressed  their  vows 
to  her,  burnt  incense,  poured  out  drink  offerings,  and  made  cakes 
for  her  with  her  own  hands.  This  goddess  is  called,  in  scripture, 
the  Queen  of  Heaven. 

D 


34  CANTO   THE    FIRST. 


"  JTis  the  soul's  food : — the  fervid  must  adore. — 
For  this  the  heathen,  unsufficed  with  thought, 

Moulds  him  an  idol  of  the  glittering  ore. 
And  shrines  his  smiling  goddess,  marble-wrought. 


What  bliss  for  her,  ev'n  in  this  world  of  woe, 

Oh  !  Sire  who  mak'st  yon  orb-strewn  arch  thy  throne  ; 

That  sees  thee  in  thy  noblest  work  below 
Shine  undefaced,  adored,  and  all  her  own ! 


This  I  had  hoped ;  but  hope  too  dear,  too  great, 
Go  to  thy  grave ! — I  feel  thee  blasted,  now. 

Give  me,  fate's  sovereign,  well  to  bear  the  fate 
Thy  pleasure  sends ;  this,  my  sole  prayer,  allow  !" 

LXIX. 
Still  fixed  on  heaven,  her  earnest  eye,  all  dew, 

Seemed,  as  it  sought  amid  the  lamps  of  night, 
The  God  her  soul  addressed  ;  but  other  view* 

Far  different,  sudden  from  that  pensive  plight 


Recalled  her  :  quick  as  on  primeval  gloom 
Burst  the  new  day-star  when  the  Eternal  bid, 

Appeared,  and  glowing  filled  the  dusky  room, 
As  'twere  a  brilliant  cloud.     The  form  it  hid 


GROVE   OF    ACACIAS.  35 


Modest  emerged,  as  might  a  youth  beseem ; 

Save  a  slight  scarf,  his  beauty  bare,  and  white 
As  cygnet's  bosom  on  some  silver  stream  ; 

Or  young  Narcissus,  when  to  woo  the  light 


Of  its  first  morn,  that  flow'ret  open  springs ; 

And  near  the  maid  he  comes  with  timid  gaze, 
And  gently  fans  her  with  his  full-spread  wings, 

Transparent  as  the  cooling  gush  that  plays 

.27  X,  I 
From  ivory  fount.     Each  bright  prismatic  tint 

Still  vanishing,  returning,  blending,  changing 
About  their  tender  mystic  texture  glint, 

Like  colours  o'er  the  full-blown  bubble  ranging, 


That  pretty  urchins  launch  upon  the  air, 
And  laugh  to  see  it  vanish  ;  yet,  so  bright, 

More  like — and  even  that  were  faint  compare, 
As  shaped  from  some  new  rainbow.     Rosy  light, 


Like  that  which  Pagans  say  the  dewy  car 
Precedes  of  their  Aurora,  clipp'd  him  round, 

Retiring  as  he  moved ;  and  evening's  star 
Shamed  not  the  diamond  coronal  that  bound 


36  CANTO    THE   FIRST. 


His  curly  locks.     And,  still  to  teach  his  face 
Expression  dear  to  her  he  wooed,  he  sought ; 

And,  in  his  hand,  he  held  a  little  vase 

Of  virgin  gold,  in  strange  devices  wrought. 

LXX. 

Love-toned  he  spoke ;  "  Fair  sister,  art  thou  here 
With  pensive  looks,  so  near  thy  bridal  bed, 

Fixed  on  the  pale  cold  moon  ?  Nay,  do  not  fear ! 
To  do  thee  weal,  o'er  mount  and  stream  I've  sped. 

LXXI. 

"  Say,  doth  thy  soul,  in  all  its  sweet  excess, 

Rush  to  this  bridegroom,  smooth  and  falsehood-taught 

Ah,  no  !  thou  yield'st  thee  to  a  feared  caress  ; 
And  strugglest  with  a  heart  that  owns  him  not. 

LXXI  I. 

"  Send  back  this  Meles  to  Euphrates  : — there 
Is  no  reluctance.     Withering  by  that  stream, 

Tell  him  there  droops  a  flower  that  needs  his  care. 
But  why,  at  such  an  hour,  so  base  a  theme  ? 

LXXIII. 

"  I'll  tell  thee  secrets  of  the  nether  earth 

And  highest  heaven  !  Or  dost  some  service  crave  ? 

Declare  thy  bidding,  best  of  mortal  birth, 
I'll  be  thy  winged  messenger,  thy  slave." 


GROVE   OF   ACACIAS.  37 

LXXIV. 
Then  softly  Egla :   "  Lovely  being,  tell, 

In  pity  to  the  grief  tlay  lips  betray 
The  knowledge  of— say,  with  some  kindly  spell, 

Dost  come  from  heaven  to  charm  my  pains  away  ?  * 

LXXV. 

"  Alas !  what  know'st  thou  of  my  plighted  lord  ? 

If  guilt  pollute  him,  as,  unless  mine  ear 
Deceive  me  in  the  purport  of  thy  word, 

Thou  mean'st  t'  imply, — kind  spirit  rest  not  here, 


"  But  to  my  father  hasten,  and  make  known 
The  fearful  truth:  my  doom  is  his  command; 

Writ  in  heaven's  book,  I  guard  the  oath  Fve  sworn, 
Unless  he  will  to  blot  it  by  thine  hand." 

LXXVI. 

"  Oaths  sworn  for  Meles  little  need  avail," 
Zophiei  replies:  "  Ere  morn,  if  't  be  thy  will, 

To  Lybian  deserts  he  shall  tell  his  tale, 

I'll  hud  him,  at  thy  word,  o'er  forest,  sea,  and  hilL 


*  Les  Perses  semble  etre  les  premiers  hommes  connus  dc  nous 
qui  parlerent  des  anges  comme  d'huissiers  celestes  et  de  porteurs 
d'ordres — Voltaire  sur  les  Moeurs  et  V Esprit  des  Nations. 


38  CANTO   THE   FIRST. 

LXXVII. 
"  But  soothe  thee,  maiden  ;  be  thy  soul  at  peace  ! 

Mine  be  the  care  to  hasten  to  thy  sire, 
And  null  thy  vow.     Let  every  terror  cease  : 

Perfect  success  attends  thy  least  desire." 

LXXVII  I. 
Then  lowly  bending  with  seraphic  grace, 

The  vase  he  proffered  full ;  and  not  a  gem 
Drawn  forth  successive  from  its  sparkling  place 

But  put  to  shame  the  Persian  diadem. 

LXXIX. 

While  he,  "  Nay,  let  me  o'er  thy  white  arms  bind 
These  orient  pearls,,  less  smooth ;  Egla,  for  thee,, 

My  thrilling  substance  pained  by  storm  and  wind, 
I  sought  them  in  the  caverns  of  the  sea. 

LXXX. 

"  Look  !  here's  a  ruby ;  drinking  solar  rays, 

I  saw  it  redden  on  a  mountain  tip ; 
Now  on  thy  snowy  bosom  let  it  blaze : 

'Twill  blush  still  deeper  to  behold  thy  lip. 

JLXXXI. 
"  Here's  for  thy  hair  a  garland ;  every  flower 

That  spreads  its  blossoms,  watered  by  the  tear 
Of  the  sad  slave  in  Babylonian  bower, 

Might  see  its  frail  bright  hues  perpetuate  here~ 


GROVE   OF   ACACIAS.  39 

LXXXII. 

"  For  morn's  light  bell,  this  changeful  amethyst ; 

A  sapphire  for  the  violet's  tender  blue ; 
Large  opals,  for  the  queen-rose  zephyr-kist ; 

And  here  are  emeralds  of  every  hue, 
For  folded  bud  and  leaflet,  dropped  with  dew.* 

LXXXIII. 
"  And  here's  a  diamond,  culled  from  Indian  mine, 

To  gift  a  haughty  queen  :  it  might  not  be ; 
I  knew  a  worthier  brow,  sister  divine,f 

And  brought  the  gem ;  for  well  I  deem  for  thee 


*  It  was  not  unusual  among  the  nations  of  the  East  to  imitate 
flowers  with  precious  stones.  The  Persian  kings,  about  the  time 
of  Artaxerxes,  sat,  when  they  gave  audience,  under  a  vine,  the 
leaves  of  which  were  formed  of  gold,  and  the  grapes  of  emeralds. 
Gold  is  supposed  by  some  of  the  Asiatics  to  have  grown  like  a  tree, 
in  the  garden  of  Eden  ;  and  the  veins  of  ore  found  in  the  earth 
still  correspond  to  the  form  of  branches.  Shedad,  in  the  gardens 
of  his  wonderful  palace,  had  trees  formed  of  gold  and  silver,  with 
fruits  aud  blossoms  of  precious  stones.  This  palace,  the  Arabs 
suppose,  still  exists  in  the  desert,  where,  though  generally  in 
visible,  individuals  from  time  to  time  have  been  indulged  with  a 
sight  of  it. 

•(•  Sister  was  an  affectionate  appellation  used  by  the  Hebrews  to 
women. 


40  CANTO    THE    FIRST. 


"  The     '  arch-chymic    sun '     in    earth's    dark    bosom 
wrought 

To  prison  thus  a  ray,  that  when  dull  night 
Frowns  o'er  her  realms,  and  nature's  all  seems  nought, 

She  whom  he  grieves  to  leave  may  still  behold  his  light." 

LXXXV. 

Thus  spoke  he  on,  while  still  the  wondering  maid 

Gazed,  as  a  youthful  artist ;  rapturously 
Each  perfect,  smooth,  harmonious  limb  surveyed 

Insatiate  still  her  beauty-loving  eye. 

LXXXVI. 

For  Zophiel  wore  a  mortal  form ;  and  blent 
In  mortal  form,  when  perfect,  Nature  shews 

Her  all  that's  fair  enhanced;  fire,  firmament, 

Ocean,  earth,  flowers,  and  gems, — all  there  disclose 

Their  charms  epitomised  :  the  heavenly  power 
To  lavish  beauty,  in  this  last  work,  crown'd : 

And  Egla,  formed  of  fibres  such  as  dower 
Those  who  most  feel,  forgot  all  else  around. 

LXXXVII. 
He  saw,  and  softening  every  wily  word, 

Spoke  in  more  melting  music  to  her  soul ; 
And  o'er  her  sense,  as  when  the  fond  night-bird 

Woos  the  full  rose,  o'erpowering  fragrance  stole;  (10) 


GROVE   OF    ACACIAS.  41 

LXXXVIII. 
Or  when  the  lilies,  sleepier  perfume,  move, 

Disturbed  by  two  young  sister-fawns,  that  play 
Among  their  graceful  stalks  at  morn,  and  love 

From  their  white  cells  to  lap  the  dew  away. 

LXXXIX. 

She  strove  to  speak,  but  'twas  in  murmurs  low; 

While  o'er  her  cheek,  his  potent  spell  confessing, 
Deeper  diffused  the  warm  carnation  glow 

Still  dewy  wet  with  tears,  her  inmost  soul  confessing. 

xc. 

As  the  lithe  reptile,  in  some  lonely  grove, 
With  fixed  bright  eye,  of  fascinating  flame, 

Lures  on  by  slow  degrees  the  plaining  dove, 

So  nearer,  nearer  still  the  bride  and  spirit  came. 

XCI. 

Success  seemed  his;  but  secret,  in  the  height 

Of  exultation,  as  he  braved  the  power 
Which  baffled  him  at  morn,  a  secret  light 

Shot  from  his  eye,  with  guilt  and  treachery  fraught. 

XCII. 
Nature  upon  her  children  oft  bestows 

The  quick,  untaught  perception  ;  and  while  art 
O'ertasks  himself  with  guile,  loves  to  disclose 

The  dark  thought  in  the  eye,  to  warn  the  o'er-trusting 
heart. 


42  CANTO   THE   FIRST. 

XCIII. 
Or  haply  'twas  some  airy  guardian  foiled 

The  sprite.     What  mixed  emotions  shook  his  breast; 
When  her  fair  hand,  ere  he  could  clasp,  recoiled ! 

The  spell  was  broke ;  and  doubts  and  terrors  prest 


Her  sore.     While  Zophiel :  "  Meles'  step  I  heard— 
He's  a  betrayer ! — wilt  receive  him  still  ?" — 

The  rosy  blood,  driven  to  her  heart  by  fear, 
She  said,  in  accents  faint  but  firm,  "  I  will." 

XCIV. 
The  spirit  heard ;  and  all  again  was  dark ; 

Save,  as  before,  the  melancholy  flame 
Of  the  full  moon  ;  and  faint,  unfrequent  spark, 

Which  from  the  perfume's  burning  embers  came, 

xcv. 

That  stood  in  vases  round  the  room  disposed. 

Shuddering  and  trembling  to  her  couch  she  crept, 
Soft  ope'd  the  door,  and  quick  again  was  closed, 

And  through  the  pale  grey  moonlight  Meles  stept. 

XCVI. 
But  ere  he  yet,  with  haste,  could  throw  aside 

His  broidered  belt  and  sandals, — dread  to  tell,     * 
Eager  he  sprang — he  sought  to  clasp  his  bride — 

He  stopt :— a  groan  was  heard — he  gasped,  and  fell 


GROVE   OF   ACACIAS.  43 

XCVI1. 
Low  by  the  couch  of  her  who  widowed  lay, 

Her  ivory  hands,  convulsive,  clasped  in  prayer, 
But  lacking  power  to  move ;  and,  when  'twas  day, 

A  cold  black  corse  was  all  of  Meles,  there. 


NOTES 

TO 

CANTO    THE    FIRST. 


(1)  "  The  self-same  breeze  that  passes  o'er  thy  breast" 

The  remains  of  Columbus  are  preserved  in  the  Cathedral  at 
Havana,  beneath  a  monument  and  bust  of  very  rude  sculpture. 
These  stanzas  were  written  on  the  same  coast,  about  seventy 
miles  distant. 

(2)  u  Madoc,  my  father's  ancient  bones  repose 

Where  their  bold  harps  thy  country's  bards  enwreathed." 
The  well-known  and  beautiful  poem  of  Dr  Robert   Soathey, 
which  bears  the  name  of  the  Welch  prince,   Madoc,  renders  it 
unnecessary  to  give  any  farther  account  of  him. 

(3)  **  And  here  the  full  cerulean  passion-flower. 

Climbing  among  the  leaves,  its  mystic  symbols  hung." 

Those  who  have  only  seen  this  flower  as  a  curious  exotic  in 
severer  climates,  can  have  little  idea  of  the  profusion  with  which 
it  grows  in  its  native  realms.  It  climbs  from  shrub  to  shrub,  forming 
natural  bowers,  sparkling  with  morning  dew,  and  looking,  from 
its  beamy  shape,  like  a  beautiful  planet. 

(4)  "  That  close  inclining  o'er  her,  seemed  to  reck 

What  Jtwas  they  canopied." 

This  kind  of  acacia  or  mimosa  particularly  belongs  to  Abyssinia : 


46  NOTES   TO   CANTO    THE   FIRST. 

it  is  said  to  incline  its  branches,  as  if  sensible  when  any  one  seeks 
its  shade.  The  Arabians  love  it  as  a  friend.  A  low  species  of 
mimosa,  which  grows  profusely  in  this  island  (Cuba),  is  extremely 
sensitive ;  it  not  only  shuts  its  pretty  leaves,  like  a  closed  fan, 
when  touched,  but  the  whole  branch  which  supports  them  stoops 
and  clings  closely  to  the  main  stalk. 

The  affection  of  '  Aswad '  for  a  mimosa  that  bent  over  him  in 
the  gardens  of  Shedad  or  Irem,  forms  a  particularly  beautiful 
passage  in  Thalaba. 

(5)  "  While  friendly  shades  the  sacred  rites  enshroud." 

The  captive  Hebrews,  though  they  sometimes  outwardly  con 
formed  to  the  religion  of  their  oppressors,  were  accustomed  to 
practice  their  own  in  secret. 

(6)  "  His  heaven-invented  harp  he  still  retained" 

The  invention  of  the  harp  was  ascribed,  by  the  Hebraic  his 
torians,  to  Jubal ;  who,  as  he  lived  before  the  deluge,  enjoyed,  in 
common  with  others  of  his  race,  the  privilege  of  conversing  with 
angels,  from  whom  he  may  be  supposed  to  have  received  his  art. 
That  Mercury,  to  whom  the  Grecians  ascribed  the  invention  of  the 
lyre,  according  to  the  belief  of  the  Christian  fathers,  might  hare 
been  the  son  of  a  guilty  angel. 

(7)  "  Weary  he  fainted  through  the  toilsome  hours. 

And  then  his  mystic  nature  he  sustained 
On  steam  of  sacrifices,  breath  of  flowers." 

u  Eusebe  dans  sa  <  Preparation  Evangelique,'  raporte  quantite 
de  passages  de  Porphyre,  ou  ce  philosophe  Payen  assure  que  les 
mauvais  demons  sont  les  auteurs  des  enchantemens,  des  philtres, 
and  des  malefices  ;  que  le  mensonge  est  essentiel  a  leur  nature  ; 
qu'ils  ne  font  que  tromper  nos  yeux  par  des  spectres  and  par  des 
fantomes  ;  quails  excitent  en  nous  la  plupart  de  nos  passions  ; 
<iu'ils  ont  1'ambition  de  vouloir  passer  pour  des  dieux ;  que  leurs 


NOTES   TO   CANTO   THE    FIRST.  47 

corps  aeriens  se  nourissent  de  fumigations  de  sang  repandu  et  de 
la  graisse  des  sacrifices  ;  qu'il  n'y  a  qu'eux  qui  se  melent  de  rendre 
des  oracles,  et  a  qui  cette  fonction  plein  de  tromperie  soit  torabee 
en  partage. — Fontenelle  Histoire  des  Oracles. 

It  is  related,  also,  in  the  Caherman  Nameh,  that  the  Peris  fed 
upon  precious  odours,  brought  them  by  their  companions  when 
imprisoned  and  hung  up  in  cages  by  the  Dives. 

Most  of  the  oriental  superstitions  harmonize  perfectly  with  the 
belief  of  the  fathers  ;  and  what  is  there  in  philosophy,  natural  or 
moral,  to  disprove  the  existence  of  beings  similar  to  those 
described  by  the  latter  ? 

(8)  "Somctiv&t  he  gave  out  oracles." 

This  passage  accords  with  a  belief  prevalent  in  the  earlier  ages 
of  Christianity,  that  all  nations,  except  the  descendants  of  Abra 
ham,  were  abandoned  by  the  Almighty,  and  subjected  to  the  power 
of  demons  or  evil  spirits.  Fontenelle,  in  his  "  Histoire  des 
Oracles,"  makes  the  following  extract  from  the  works  of  the  Pagan 
philosopher  Porphyry: — "Auguste  deja  vieux  et  songeant  a  se 
choisir  un  successeur  alia  consulter  TOracle  de  Delphes.  L'Oracle 
ne  repondoit  point,  quoiqu'  Auguste  n'  epargnat  pas  des  sacrifices. 
A  la  fin,  cependant,  il  en  tira  cette  reponse.  L'enfant  Hebrew  a 
qui  tous  les  Dieux  obeissent,  me  chasse  d'  ici,  et  me  renvoie  dans 
les  Enfers.  Sors  de  ce  temple  sans  parler  ! " 

(9)  "Still  true 

To  one  dear  theme,  my  full  soul  flowing  o'er, 
Would  find  no  room  for  thought  of  what  it  knew, 
JVor,  picturing  forfeit  transport,  curse  me  more" 

"Si  rhomme"  (says  a  modern  writer),  "constant  dans  ses  affection, 
pouvoit  sans  cesse  fournir  a  un  sentiment  renouvele  sans  cesse, 
sans  doute  la  solitude  et  Famour  Pegaleroient  a  Dieu  meme ;  car 
ce  sont  la  les  deux  eternels  plaisirs  du  grand  Etre." 

Saint  Theresa  used  to  describe  the  Prince  of  Darkness  as  an 
unhappy  being  who  never  could  know  what  it  was  to  love. 


48  NOTES   TO    CANTO   THE   FIRST. 

(10)  "  And  o'er  her  sense,  as  when  the  fond  night-bird, 
Woos  the  full  rose,  overpowering  fragance  stole.11 

This  allusion  is  familiar  to  every  one  in  the  slightest  degree 
acquainted  with  Oriental  literature. 

"  The  nightingale,  if  he  sees  the  rose,  becomes  intoxicated ;  he 
lets  go  from  his  hands  the  reins  of  prudence."  Fable  of  the 
Gardener  and  Nightingale. 

Lady  Montagu  also  translates  a  song,  thus  : 

"  The  nightingale  now  hovers  amid  the  flowers. 
His  passion  is  to  seek  roses." 

Again,  from  the  poet  Hafiz : — 

"  When  the  roses  wither,  and  the  bower  loses  its  sweetness, 
You  have  no  longer  the  tale  of  the  nightingale." 

Indeed  the  rose,  in  Oriental  poetry,  is  seldom  mentioned  without 
her  paramour,  the  nightingale,  which  gives  reason  to  suppose  that 
the  nightingale,  in  those  countries  where  it  was  first  celebrated, 
had  really  some  natural  fondness  for  that  flower,  or  perhaps  for 
some  insect  which  took  shelter  in  it.  In  Sir  W.  Jones's  transla 
tion  of  the  Persian  fable  of  "  The  Gardener  and  Nightingale,"  is 
the  following  distich : 

"  I  know  not  what  the  rose  says  under  his  lips,  that  he  brings 
back  the  helpless  nightingales,  with  their  mournful  notes. 

"  One  day  the  gardener,  according  to  his  established  custom, 
went  to  view  the  roses  ;  he  saw  a  plaintive  nightingale  rubbing  his 
head  on  the  leaves  of  the  roses,  and  tearing  asunder,  with  his  sharp 
bill,  that  volume  adorned  with  gold." 

And  Gelaleddin  Ruzbehar ; 

"  While  the  nightingale  sings  thy  praises  with  a  loud  voice,  I 
am  all  ear,  like  the  stalk  of  the  rose-tree." 

Pliny,  however,  in  his  delightful  description  of  this  bird,  says 
nothing,  I  believe,  about  the  rose. 


Cuba.    Cajttal  San  Patricia,  April  1823. 


CANTO  THE  SECOND. 


DEATH    OF    ALTHEETOR. 


ARGUMENT. 


Sardius,  in  his  pavilion,  alone  with  Altheetor.— -Description  of  the 
pavilion. — Sardius  sends  a  detachment  of  his  guards  in  search  of 
Meles. — Egla  and  her  parents  are  brought  before  the  King,  to  answer 
for  the  murder  of  Meles. — Egla  relates  the  manner  of  Meles'  death, 
is  retained  at  the  palace,  and  invited  to  banquet  with  Sardius  and 
his  Princes. — Sardius  determines  to  espouse  Egla,  but  delays  his 
purpose,  at  the  entreaty  of  Idaspes. — Egla  is  commanded,  on  pain 
of  the  death  of  her  father,  to  receive,  as  bridegroom,  whomever  the 
King  may  appoint. — Alcestes,  Ripheus,  Philomars,  and  Rosanes, 
seek  her  chamber,  and  die  in  succession. — Sickness  and  death  of 
of  Altheetor.— Sorrow  of  Zophiel.— Egla  and  her  parents  sent  back 
to  their  home. 


CANTO  THE  SECOND. 


%    DEATH     OF     ALTHEETOR.* 


I. 

Soox  over  Males'  grave  the  wild  flower  dropt 
Its  brimming  dew ;  nor  far,  where  Tigris'  spray 

Leaps  to  the  beam,  in  life's  sweet  blossom  cropt, 
Four  others,  fair  as  he,  were  snatched  from  day. 


Bridegrooms  like  him,  they  knew  his  fate ;  yet,  bent 
On  their  desires,  resolved  that  fate  to  brave ; 

So,  in  succession,  each  a  victim  went, 
Borne  from  the  bridal  chamber  to  the  grave. 

II. 
Low  liest  thou,  Meles  !  and  'tis  mine  to  know, 

By  light  of  song,  the  darkly-hidden  power 
That  closed  thy  bland,  but  wily  lip  ;  and  show, 

In  flowing  verse,  what  followed  thy  death-hour. 

*  This  name  is  formed  of  the  two  Greek  words  Alethes  and  etor 


52  CANTO   THE   SECOND. 

III. 
Noon  slept  upon  thy  grave,  and  Media's  king 

Had  sat  him  down,  from  court  and  harem  far, 
With  a  young  boy  who  knew  to  touch  the  string 

Of  the  sweet  harp,  and  wage  the  ivory  war* 


On  painted  field.     The  fainting  breezes  played 
Among  the  curling  clusters  of  his  hair ; 

Thro*  myrtle  blooms  and  berries,  white  and  red, 
O'er  the  cool  space  of  a  pavilion,  fair 


As  fond  Ionian  artist  might  devise  : 

Twelve  columns,  ivory  white,  support  a  dome, 
Painted  to  emulate  the  dark  blue  skies, 
When  seamen  watch  the  stars,  and  sigh,  and  think  of 
home. 

IV. 

And,  in  the  midst,  Night's  goddess  (to  the  sight 
More  softly  beauteous  for  a  pictured  moon 

That  mantles  her,  in  pale  mysterious  light,) 
Comes  stealing  to  the  arms  of  her  Endymion. 


*  Chess  was  known  at  an  early  period.  Queen  Parysatis  played 
with  Artaxerxes,  her  son,  for  the  life  of  a  person  whom  she  wished 
to  destroy.  Sir  William  Jones's  article  on  the  ancient  game  of 
Chaturanga,  or  Indian  chess,  is  well  known. 


DEATH    OF   ALTHEETOR.  53 

V. 

On  six  fair  pedestals,  ranged  two  by  two, 
Like  Leda's  sons,  the  smiling  pillars  stood ; 

As,  each  by  cither's  side,  they  rose  to  view, 

Spotless  from  limpid  bath,'  in  some  deep  dusky  wood, 


Draining  their  dripping  locks.     In  either  space 
Between,  three  lattices,  with  blossoms  bowered, 

Alternate  with  three  pictured  scenes  had  place; 
And  all  who  saw,  believed  some  god  empowered 


The  gifted  hand  that  spread  their  tints.     In  one, 
Far  from  the  Grecian  camp,  his  rage  profound 

Soothing,  with  lyre  in  hand,  sat  Thetis'  son ; 
Beside  the  ocean  wave  that  darkly  dashed  around. 

VI. 

Upon  the  next  young  Myrrha's  form  appears ; 

Guilt,  fear,  repentance,  blanch  her  cheek  of  love, 
While,  tender,  beauteous,  shuddering,  drowned  in  tears, 

She  flies  the  day,  and  hides  in  Saba's  deepest  grove. 

VII. 
A  peerless  third  the  bride  of  Love  displays, 

Psyche,  with  lamp  in  hand  ;  blest,  while  unknown 
The  cause  that  gave  her  bliss ;  now,  daring  rays 

The  mystery  pierce,  and  all  her  pleasure's  flown. 


54  CANTO    THE   SECOND. 

VIII. 
Beneath  that  dome,  reclined  the  youthful  king, 

Upon  a  silver  couch  ;*  and  soothed  to  mood 
As  free  and  soft  as  perfumes  from  the  wing 

Of  bird  that  shook  the  jasmines  as  it  wooed,f 


Its  fitful  song  the  mingling  murmur  meeting 

Of  marble  founts  of  many  a  fair  device  ; 
And  bees  that  banquet,  from  the  sun  retreating, 

In  every  full,  deep  flower,  that  crowns  his  paradise.  (1) 

IX. 

While  gemmy  diadem  thrown  down  beside, 

And  garment,  at  the  neck  plucked  open,  proved 

His  unconstraint,  and  scorn  of  regal  pride, 
When  thus  apart  retired,  he  sat  with  those  he  loved. 

X. 

One  careless  arm  around  the  boy  was  flung, 

Not  undeserving  of  that  free  caress; 
But  warm  and  true,  and  of  a  heart  and  tongue 

To  heighten  bliss  or  mitigate  distress. 


*  Couches  of  gold  and  silver  were  not  uncommon  among  the 
Median  and  Persian  princes. 

•f-  The  white  and  yellow  jessamine  is  now  found  growing  in 
abundance  about  mount  Casius,  intermixed  with  laurels,  myrtles, 
and  other  delightful  shrubs. 


DEATH    OF   ALTHEETOR.  55 

XI. 

Quick  to  perceive,  in  him  no  freedom  rude 
Reproved  full  confidence  :  friendship  the  meat 

His  soul  had  starved  without,  with  gratitude 
Was  ta'en ;  and  her  rich  wine  crowned  high  the  ban 
quet  sweet. 

What  sire  Altheetor  owned  'twere  hard  to  trace; 

A  beautiful  Ionian  was  his  mother; 
Some  found  to  Sardius  semblance,  in  his  face, 

Who  never  better  could  have  loved  a  brother. 

XII. 

But  now,  the  ivory  battle  at  its  close, 

"  Go  to  thy  harp,"  said  Sardius,  "  'twere  severe 

To  keep  thee  longer,  thus ;"  then,  as  he  rose, 
"  Where's  our  ambassador  ?    Call  Meles  here." 

XIII. 

Altheetor  said :  "  Alas !  my  prince,  the  chase 
Detains  him  long ;  and  yet  from  peril  sure 

'Tis  deemed  he  fares :  nay,  those  there  are  who  trace 
His  absence  to  some  silvan  paramour." 

XIV. 

"  Let  him  be  sought,"  said  Sardius.*     No  delay 

Mocked  that  command ;  but  vestige,  glimpse,  nor  breath 

Was  gleaned,  till,  sadly,  on  the  seventh  day, 
A  band  returned  with  tidings  of  his  death. 
*  Sardius  is  the  name  of  a  precious  stone. 


56  CANTO   THE   SECOND. 

XV. 

Sardius  was  sad  upon  his  audience-seat. 

Then  spoke  old  Philomars  :  "  Remember  well, 
O  king !  without  the  city,  had  retreat 

Two  of  those  captives  of  a  race  so  fell, 


"  Thy  father  and  my  lord  would  rid  the  earth, 
Root,  branch,  and  bud,  and  gave  the  task  to  me ; 

But  two  escaped  the  sword,  and  so  had  birth 
Another  serpent.     This,  O  prince  !  to  thee 


"  Was  told ;  and  to  complete  the  work  I  craved ; 

But  thou  didst  check  my  zeal,  with  angry  mood, 
And  saidst,  '  If  any  trembling  wretch  be  saved, 

Let  him  live  on ;  there's  been  enough  of  blood.' 


"  We've  traced  Lord  Meles  to  that  serpent's  den, 
And  seen  him  in  the  vile  earth  murdered  lie ; 

Yet  wherefore  grieves  the  greatest  king  of  men  ? 
This  only  is  the  fruit  of  clemency." 

XVI. 
Then  Sardius  spoke,  (as  on  the  earth  he  cast, 

While  grief  gave  anger  place,  his  full  dark  eye) : 
"  Whoe'er  has  done  this  deed  has  done  his  last ! 

Soldier,  priest,  Jew,  or  Mede,  by  Belus  he  shall  die." 


DEATH    OF   ALTHEETOR.  57 

XVII. 
Then  brought  they  Zoroh  in,  misfortune's  pride, 

His  venerable  locks  with  age  were  white ; 
He  cheered  his  trembling  partner,  at  his  side, 

Reposing  on  his  God,  befall  him  as  it  might. 

XVIII. 
Young  Egla  marked  him  stand  so  firm  and  pale ; 

Looked  in  her  mother's  face — 'twas  anguish  there ; 
Then  gently  threw  aside  her  azure  veil, 

And  in  an  upward  glance  sent  forth  to  heaven  a  prayer. 

XIX. 

Then  prostrate  thus :  "  Oh,  monarch,  seal  my  doom  ! 

Thy  sorrow  for  Lord  Meles'  death  I  know ; 
Take  then  thy  victim,  drag  me  to  his  tomb, 

And  to  his  manes  let  my  life-blood  flow !  (2) 

XX. 

"  Oh !  by  the  God  who  made  yon  glowing  sun, 
And  warmed  cold  dust  to  beauty  with  his  breath ; 

By  all  the  good  that  e'er  was  caused  or  done, 

Nor  I,  nor  mine,  have  wrought  thy  subject's  death. 

XXI. 

"  Yet  think  not  I  would  live ;  alas  !  to  me 
No  warrior  of  my  country  e'er  shall  come; 

And  forth  with  dance,  and  flowers,  and  minstrelsy, 
I  go  to  bid  no  brother  welcome  home. 


58  CANTO   THE    SECOND. 

XXII. 
"  Sad  from  my  birth,  nay,  —  born  upon  that  day 

When  perished  all  my  race,  my  infant  ears 
Were  opened  first  with  groans  ;  and  the  first  ray 

I  saw  came  dimly  through  my  mother's  tears. 


"  Pour  forth  my  life,  a  guiltless  offering 
Most  freely  given  !  But  let  me  die  alone  ! 

Destroy  not  those  who  gave  me  birth  !  oh,  king  ! 
I've  blood  enough  :  let  it  for  all  atone  !" 

XXIII. 
She  traced  it  on  her  hand,  through  the  soft  skin 

Meandering  seen.     Without,  that  hand  was  white 
As  drops  for  infant  lip  ;  the  palm  within 

Faintly  carnationed,  as  of  Amphitrite, 


The  fond  lonians  fancied  the  pure  shell 
Chosen  by  that  loved  goddess  for  a  car, 

While  o'er  her  feet  dissolving  foam-wreaths  fell 
In  kisses ;  so  they  dreamed,  in  little  bark  afar. 

XXIV. 

Egla  had  ceased  :  her  pure  cheeks  heightened  glow ; 

Her  white  hands  clasped;  blue  veil,  half  fallen  down; 
Fair  locks  and  gushing  tears,  stole  o'er  him  so, 

That  Sardius  had  not  harmed  her  for  his  crown. 


DEATH   OF   ALTHEETOR.  59 


Yet,  serious,  thus  fair  justice*  course  pursued  : 
As  if  to-  hide  what  look  and  tone  revealed ; 

"  What  lured  a  Median  to  thy  solitude  ? 

How  came  his  death  ?  and  who  his  corse  concealed?" 

XXV. 
'Twas  thus  she  told  her  tale :  "  A  truant  dove 

Had  flown ;  I  strayed  a  little  from  the  track 
That  winds  in  mazes  to  my  lonely  grove, 

But  heard  a  hunter's  voice  and  hastened  back. 

XXVI. 

"  Lord  Meles  saw ;  and  with  a  slender  dart, 

Fastened  the  little  flutterer  to  a  tree 
By  the  white  wing,  with  such  surpassing  art, 

'Twas  scarcely  wounded  when  returned  to  me.* 

XXVII. 
"  Thankful  I  took ;  but  taught  to  be  afraid 

Of  stranger's  glance,  retired :  my  mother  sighed 
And  trembling  saw ;  yet  soon  our  dwelling's  shade 

The  Median  sought,  and  claimed  me  for  a  bride. 


*  The  Medes  as  well  as  the  Persians  were  expert  with  the  bow 
and  javelin. 


. 


60  CANTO   THE    SECOND. 

XXVIII. 
"  But  when  reluctant  to  my  humble  room 

I  had  retired,  was  spread  a  fragrance  there, 
Like  rose  and  lotus  shaken  in  their  bloom ; 

And  something  came  and  spoke,  and  looked  so  fair, 

XXIX. 

"  It  seemed  all  fresh  from  heaven ;  but  soon  the  thought 
Of  things  that  tempt  to  sorcery  in  the  night 

Made  me  afraid.     It  fled  ;  and  Meles  sought 
His  bridal  bed ;  the  moon  was  shining  bright ; 

XXX. 

"  I  saw  his  bracelets  gleam,  and  knew  him  well ; 

But,  ere  he  spoke,  was  breathed  a  sound  so  dread, 
That  fear  enchained  my  senses  like  a  spell, 

And  when  the  morning  came,  my  lord  was  dead. 

XXXI, 

"  And  then  my  mother,  in  her  anxious  care, 
Concealed  me  in  a  cave,  that  long  before 

Saved  her  from  massacre  ;  and  left  me  there, 
To  live  in  darkness,  till  the  search  was  o'er 


"  Her  fears  foretold.     So,  in  that  cavern's  gloom 
Alone  upon  the  damp  bare  rock  I  lay, 

Like  a  deserted  corse ;  but  that  cold  tomb 
Soon  filled  with  rosy  mists,  like  dawn  of  day, 


DEATH    OF   ALTHEETOR.  61 


"  Which,  half  dispersing,  showed  the  same  fair  thing 
I  saw  before ;  and  with  it  came  another, 

More  gentle  than  the  first,  and  helped  it  bring 
Fresh  flowers  and  fruits,  in  semblance  like  a  brother. 

XXXII. 

"  They  spread,  upon  the  rock,  a  flowery  couch ; 

And  of  a  sparkling  goblet  bade  me  sip, — 
For  that  they  saw  me  cold ;  I  dared  not  touch, 

But,  mid  the  sweet  temptation,  closed  my  lip ; 


"  And  from  their  grateful  warmth  and  looks  so  fair 
I  turned  away  and  shrank.     Of  their  intent, 

I  do  not  know  to  tell,  or  what  they  were — 
But  feared  and  doubted  both ;  and  when  they  went, 


"  Fled  trembling  to  my  home ;  content  to  meet 
The  sternest  death  injustice  might  prepare, 

Ere  trust  my  weakness,  in  that  dark  retreat, 
To  such  strange  peril  as  assailed  me  there." 

XXXIII. 
She  ceased  :  and  now,  in  palace  bade  to  stay, 

Awaits  the  royal  pleasure;  but  no  more, 
Though  strictly  watched  and  guarded,  all  the  day. 

To  that  stern  warrior's  threats  was  given  o'er. 


62  CANTO   THE   SECOND. 


Dark  Philomars,  strong  in  his  country's  cause ; 

But  harder  than  his  battle-helm  his  heart ; 
Born,  while  his  father  fought,  and  nurst  in  wars, 

Pillage  and  fire  his  sports,  to  kill  his  only  art. 

XXXIV. 

And,  when  he  sacked  a  city,  he  could  tear 
The  screaming  infant  from  its  mother's  arms, 

Dash  it  to  earth ;  and,  while  'twas  weltering  there 
With  demon  grasp,  impress  her  shuddering  charms : 


Then,  as  she  faints  with  shrieks  and  struggles  vain, 

Coolly  recall  her  with  the  ruffian  blow ; 
And  look,  and  pause,  insatiate  of  her  pain, 

Then  gash  her  tender  throat,  and  see  the  life-blood  flow. 

XXXV. 

Oh,  Nature  !  can  it  be  ?— the  thought  alone 
Chills  the  quick  pulse:  Belief  retires  afar; 

Reason  grows  angry ;  Pity  breathes  a  groan  ; 

And  each  distrusts  the  truth:  yet,  "such  things  are." (3) 


Are  ? — Nay,  in  this  late  age  !  God,  canst  thou  view 
Thine  image  so  debased  ?  The  bard  in  grief 

Thinks  o'er  the  creed  of  fiends ;  sees  what  men  do ; 
And,  wondering,  scarce  rejects  the  wild  belief. 


DEATH  OF  ALTHEETOR.          63 

XXXVI. 

Night  came ;  and  old  Idaspes,  all  alone 
With  Sardius,  had  retired  ;  but  why  so  late 

He  wakes,  with  his  white  hairs,  may  not  be  known, 
And  still^the  captives  tremble  for  their  fate. 

But  when  the  old  man  went,  that  gentle  boy 
Altheetor  sat  by  his  loved  master's  couch ; 

And  fervent  pleadings  for  their  lives  employ 

His  lips  that  else  had  sung.  The  while  his  touch 

Thrilled  o'er  his  lyre,  gay  Meles'  early  blight 

Past  from  the  prince's  thought ;  the  transient  gloom 
Was  to  his  soul  just  as  some  bird  of  night 
Had  flitted  cross  the  moon  when  full  and  bright, 

She  o'er  his  garden  shone  in  the  sweet  month  of  bloom.* 

XXXVII. 
Of  late  his  harem  tired  ;  if  suns  were  there 

He  did  not  burn,  but  sickened  in  their  rays, 
And  snow-white  Egla,  mild,  and  chaste,  and  fair, 

Came  o'er  his  fancy ;  as  in  sultry  days,  (4) 

Soft  clouds  appear,  when  travellers  bare  the  brow ; 

And  faint  and  panting,  bless  the  timely  shade, 
And  breathe  the  cool  refreshment ;  so  e'en  now 

Refreshed  his  languid  soul  the  softly-imaged  maid. 

*  When,  the  Persians  celebrate  their  feast  of  roses. 


64  CANTO   THE   SECOND. 

XXXVIII. 
Or,  as  some  youth  waked  from  the  vine's  excess, 

Parched  and  impure  forgets  the  joys  it  gave ; 
And  flies  the  fair  Bacchante's  wild  caress, 

For  some  lone  Naiad's  grot,  and  cools  him  in  the  wave, 

XXXIX. 

Or  as  some  graceful  fawn,  o'erspent  with  play, 
Faints  in  the  beam,  and  where  deep  shades  invite ; 

Flies,  all  impatient  of  the  burning  day, 

And  woos  the  lily's  shade  to  hide  him  from  its  light 

XL. 

So  felt  the  king ;  nor  sleeping  quite  nor  waking, 
As  wildering  o'er  his  lids  the  zephyrs  sweep, 

Whole  beds  of  purple  hyacinths  forsaking  ; 
And  when  sweet  reverie  gave  place  to  sleep, 

He  dreamed  of  baths,  or  beds  of  flowers  and  dew, 

Or  sculptured  marbles,  as  at  Cnidos  seen ; 
But  still,  with  fair  long  locks  and  veil  of  blue, 
Another  form  would  blend  with  every  view, 
With  visionary  grace  and  heavenly  eye  and  mien. 

XLI. 
The  smile  of  morning  woke  Idaspes'  care ; 

And  Egla,  dubious  if  its  light  might  bring 
Or  weal  or  woe  to  her,  was  bid  prepare 

To  sit  at  evening  banquet  with  the  king. 


DEATH    OF   ALTHEETOR.  65 

XLII. 
Then  came  an  ancient  dame,  skilled  in  those  arts, 

Employed  by  beauty's  daughters  to  enchain, 
Or  lightly  touch,  the  soft  voluptuous  hearts 

Of  youths  that  seem,  as  they,  of  curl  and  eyebrow  vain.* 

XLIII. 
And  pouring  perfumes  in  the  bath,  she  told 

Wild  tales  of  a  Chaldean  princess,  loved 
By  the  fair  sprite  Eroziel,  who,  of  old, 

Taught  all  those  trims  to  heighten  beauty,  proved 


By  Lydian,  Median,  Perse,  and  Greek ;  with  black  (5) 
To  tip  the  eye-lid  j  stain  the  finger ;  deck 

The  cheek  with  hues  that  languor  bids  it  lack ; 
And  how  he  taught  to  twine  the  arms  and  neck 


With  wreaths  of  gems,  or  made  or  found  by  him,  (6) 
Or  his  enamoured  brothers,  when  they  bore 

Love  for  the  like,  and  many  a  secret  dim 
That  nature  would  conceal  from  charm'd  recesses  tore. 


*  Many  of  the  young  men  of  Asia,  and  even  those  of  Athens, 
used  the  same  arts  at  their  toilets  as  the  women. 


66  CANTO    THE    SECOND. 

XLIV. 
This  story  o'er,  the  dainty  maids  were  fain 

To  take  the  white  rose  of  her  hand,  and  tip 
Each  taper  finger  with  a  ruddy  stain, 

To  make  it  like  the  coral  of  her  lip. 

XLV. 

But  Egla  this  refused  them  ;  and  forbore 
The  folded  turban  twined  with  many  a  string 

Of  gems ;  and,  as  in  tender  memory,  wore 

Her  country's  simpler  garb,  to  meet  the  youthful  king. 

XLVI. 
Day  o'er,  the  task  was  done ;  the  melting  hues 

Of  twilight  gone,  and  reigned  the  evening  gloom 
Gently  o'er  fount  and  tower;   she  could  refuse 
No  more ;  and,  led  by  slaves,  sought  the  fair  banquet- 
room. 

XLVI  I. 
With  unassured  yet  graceful  step  advancing, 

The  light  vermilion  of  her  cheek  more  warm 
For  doubtful  modesty;  while  all  were  glancing 

Over  the  strange  attire  that  well  became  such  form. 

XLVIII. 
To  lend  her  space  the  admiring  band  gave  way  ; 

The  sandals  on  her  silvery  feet  were  blue  ; 
Of  saffron  tint  her  robe,  as  when  young  day 

Spreads  softly  o'er  the  heavens,  and  tints  the  trem 
bling  dew. 


DEATH    OF    ALTHEETOR.  67 

XLIX. 

Light  was  that  robe,  as  mist ;  and  not  a  gem 

Or  ornament  impedes  its  wavy  fold, 
Long  and  profuse ;  save  that,  above  its  hem, 

'Twas  'broidered  with  pomegranate-wreath,  in  gold. 

L. 
And,  by  a  silken  cincture,  broad  aud  blue, 

In  shapely  guise  about  the  waist  confined, 
Blent  with  the  curls  that,  of  a  lighter  hue, 

Half  floated,  waving  in  their  length  behind  ; 
The  other  half,  in  braided  tresses  twined, 

Was  decked  with  rose  of  pearls,  and  sapphires  azure  too, 

Arranged  with  curious  skill  to  imitate 
The  sweet  acacia's  blossoms ;  just  as  live 

And  droop  those  tender  flowers  in  natural  state ; 
And  so  the  trembling  gems  seemed  sensitive ; 

And  pendant,  sometimes,  touch  her  neck ;  and  there 
Seem  shrinking  from  its  softness  as  alive. 

And  round  her  arms  flower-white,  and  round,  and  fair, 
Slight  bandelets  were  twined  of  colours  five  ;  (7) 


Like  little  rainbows  seemly  on  those  arms ; 

None  of  that  court  had  seen  the  like  before; 
Soft,  fragrant,  bright, — so  much  like  heaven  her  charms, 

It  scarce  could  seem  idolatry  t*  adore. 


68  CANTO   THE   SECOND. 

LI. 

He  who  beheld  her  hand  forgot  her  face ; 

Yet  in  that  face  was  all  beside  forgot ; 
And  he,  who  as  she  went,  beheld  her  pace, 

And  locks  profuse,  had  said,  "nay,  turn  thee  not." 

LII. 
Placed  on  a  banquet-couch  beside  the  king, 

'Mid  many  a  sparkling  guest  no  eye  forbore  ; 
But,  like  their  darts,  the  warrior-princes  fling 

Such  looks  as  seemed  to  pierce,  and  scan  her  o'er  and 
o'er : 

Nor  met  alone  the  glare  of  lip  and  eye — 

Charms,  but  not  rare  :— -the  gazer  stern  and  cool, 

Who  sought  but  faults,  nor  fault  or  spot  could  spy  ; 
In  every  limb,  joint,  vein,  the  maid  was  beautiful. 

LIU. 

Save  that  her  lip,  like  some  bud-bursting  flower, 
Just  scorned  the  bounds  of  symmetry,  perchance, 

But  by  its  rashness  gained  an  added  power ; 
Heightening  perfection  to  luxuriance.* 


*  This  description  is  from  the  life  ;  and  does  not  exceed  in  any 
particular  the  face  of  a  Canadian  lady  of  Swiss  descent.  She  was 
called  by  the  peasants  of  her  neighbourhood  "  L'ange  des  bois." 


DEATH    OF   ALTHEETOR.  69 

LIV. 

But  that  was  only  when  she  smiled,  and  when 
Dissolved  th'  intense  expression  of  her  eye ; 

And  had  her  Spirit-love  first  seen  her  then 
He  had  not  doubted  her  mortality. 

LV. 

And  could  she  smile,  for  that  a  stranger  hung 
O'er  her  fair  form,  and  spoke  to  her  of  love  ? — 

Where  is  the  youth  who  scorned  a  court,  and  sprung 
Amid  Euphrates'  waves,  as  told  her  in  her  grove  ? 

Haply  she  did,  and  for  awhile  forgot 

Those  dark  acacias,  where  so  oft  was  wept 

Her  lone,  uncertain,  visionary  lot ; 

Yet  where  an  angel  watched  her  as  she  slept. 

LVI. 
When  light,  love,  music,  beauty,  all  dispense 

Their  wild  commingling  charms,  who  shall  controul 
The  gushing  torrent  of  attracted  sense, 

And  keep  the  forms  of  memory  and  of  soul  ? 

LVI  I. 
Oh  !  theme  of  rapture,  honoured  Constancy ! 

Invoked,  hoped,  sworn,  but  rare !  —  have  we  per* 

chance 

To  thank  the  generous  breast  that  nurtures  thee 
For  thy  dear  life,  when  saved  ?  or  fate,  or  circum 
stance  ? 


70  CANTO   THE    SECOND. 

LVIII. 
"  Thy  fragrant  form,  as  the  tall  lily  white, 

Looks  full  and  soft ;  yet  supple  as  the  reed 
Kissing  its  image  in  the  fountain  light, 

Or  ostrich*  wavy  plume."     So  speaks  the  Mede ; 


While  bending  o'er  her  banquet-couch,  he  breathes 
Her  breath,  whose  fragrance  woos  that  near  advance  ; 

Plays  with  her  silken  tresses'  wandering  wreaths, 
And  looks,  and  looks  again  with  renovated  glance. 

LIX. 
But,  ever  watchful,  to  his  prince's  side 

Came  old  Idaspes ;  he,  alone,  might  dare 
To  check  the  rising  transport,  ere  its  tide 

Arose  too  high  to  quell ; — and  thus,  expressed  his  care, 


Whispering  in  murmurs  first :  "  At  last,  O  king  ! 

Thy  subjects  breathe ;  the  cries  of  slaughter  cease  ; 
And  happy  labourers  bless  thee,  as  they  bring 

Forth  from  thy  smiling  fields,  the  fruits  of  peace. 


"  Their  wounds  just  healing  over,  wouldst  thou  rush 
Upon  thy  doom  and  theirs  ?     What  bitter  tears 

Must  flow,  if  thou  shouldst  fall !  what  blood  must  gush  ! 
Wait,  till  the  cause  of  Meles'  fate  appears. 


DEATH    OF    ALTHEETOR.  71 


"  And  ere  this  dangerous  beauty  be  thy  bride, 

Let  him  who  loves  thee  best  come  forth  and  prove 

The  peril  first."    Alcestes  rose  beside, 

And  said,  "  Oh  prince  !  to  prove  my  faith  and  love, 


"  I'll  dare  as  many  deaths  as  on  the  sod 

Without,  the  falling  rose  of  leaves  has  strown ! 

And  if  bland  Meles  fell  by  rival  god, 

So  let  me  fall ;  and  live  the  pride  of  Media's  throne!  " 

LX. 
Egla,  o'erwhelmed  with  shame,  distaste,  and  fear, 

Could,  of  remonstrance,  utter  not  a  breath  ; 
Ere  fixed  Idaspes'  whisper  met  her  ear : 

"  One  word  impassive  seals  thy  father's  death." 

XXI. 
And  while  Alcestes'  bolder  glances  stray 

O'er  the  fair  trembler  to  his  monarch  dear ; 
Not  one  distrustful  whispering  came  t'  allay 

The  sudden  joy  with  slightest  shade  of  fear : 


A  dark-hair'd  priestess,  well  he  knew,  of  late 

Had  Meles  loved ;  and  for  the  mystery 
That  hung  so  darkly  o'er  his  early  fate, 

Looked  for  no  deadlier  cause  than  wounded  jealousy. 


72  CANTO   THE   SECOND. 

LXII. 
And  for  the  story  of  the  cave,  he  deemed 

That  lone,  and  in  the  dark,  the  frighted  maid 
Had  gained  a  respite  from  her  tears,  and  dreamed ; 

Or  haply  framed  the  tale,  but  to  evade 


Some  fearM  result.     But,  be  it  as  it  might, 
The  thoughtless  King  accedes  ;  and,  ere  the  day 

Again  had  dawned,  dead,  ghastly  to  the  sight, 
Before  his  bridal  door  the  tall  Alcestes  lay. 

LXIII. 
So  died  the  youth.     But  little  might  avail 

His  sacrifice;  for  Sardius,  who  forbore 
His  purpose  but  awhile,  contemn'd  the  tale, 

And  madly  spoke  thus,  ere  the  day  was  o'er : 

LXIV. 
"  Ask  of  Alcestes'  manes,  did  he  die  *    ' 

By  angry  god  or  mortal's  traitorous  hand  ? 
Whoe'er  will  draw  to  light  this  mystery, 

Shall  live  the  captain  of  my  choicest  band" 


*  It  is  said  by  Pliny,  that  Appion  raised  up  the  soul  of  Homer, 
in  order  to  learn  from  him  his  country  and  his  parents ;  and  Apol- 
lonius  Tyanaeus  is  said  to  have  raised  the  manes  of  Achilles. 


DEATH    OF   ALTHEETOR.  73 

LXV. 
That  promise  claimed  Ripheus ;  he  desired 

No  dearer  boon  ;  yet  haply  panted,  less 
By  maddening  thought  of  love  and  beauty  fired, 

Than  to  a  rival  court  to  prove  his  fearlessness. 

LXVI. 
He  had  grasp'd  the  wily  Parthian  in  the  fight ; 

Leapt  on  the  wounded  tiger  in  the  chace : 
And  oft  his  mother,  vain  in  her  delight,  (8) 

Boasted  she  owed  him  to  a  god's  embrace. 

LXVII. 
So  he  relied  on  that ;  and  fickle  chance 

Conspired  with  the  deceit,  until  his  doom 
Was  rush'd  upon.      But  still  his  bold  advance 

Some  caution  guarded;  to  the  fatal  room 


He  came;  and  first  explored  with  trusty  blade; 

But  soon  as  he  approached  the  fatal  bride, 
Opened  the  terrace  door,  and,  half  in  shade, 

A  form,  as  of  a  mortal,  seem'd  to  glide ; 

LXVIII. 
He  flew  to  strike,  but  baffling  still  the  blow, 

And  still,  receding  from  the  chamber  far, 
It  lured  him  on  ;  and  in  the  morning  low 

And  bloody  lay  the  form,  which  not  a  scar 


74  CANTO   THE    SECOND. 


Before  had  e'er  defaced.     Dismay  profound 
Gave  place  to  doubt ;  for,  as  by  mortal  hand 

And  mortal  weapon  made,  the  wound  was  found, 

And  heard  had  been  the  clash  that  snapped  his  dinted 
brand. 

LX1X. 
Then  came,  with  rage  renewed,  rough  Philomars, 

(For  gentle  bridegroom's  office  most  unmeet 
Of  all),  and  craved,  in  guerdon  of  his  scars, 

Permission  to  drag  forth  the  deep  deceit, 


He  charged  upon  the  daughter  of  the  Jew, 

Whose  life  provoked  his  thirst ;  and  pledged  him,  rife 

With  ancient  hate,  to  bring  her  fraud  to  view, 
Or  pay  the  bold  aspersion  with  his  life. 

LXX. 

Led  from  the  bridal  room  a  deep  arcade, 

And  paths  of  flowers  and  fountains,  often  graced 

With  bathing  beauty,  now  reflect  the  shade 

Of  warriors  tall,  and  grim  with  helm  and  corselet  braced. 

LXXI. 
They  guard  each  pass,  so  that  a  bird  in  vain 

An  outlet  to  his  airy  rounds  might  seek; 
And  Philomars  stalk'd  o'er  the  floor,  with  pain 

Stifling  the  rage  which,  yet,  he  dared  not  wreak. 


DEATH    OF    ALTHEETOR.  75 


And  muttering  'twixtclench'd  teeth,  "At  last,  young  witch, 

Ends  thy  career ;"  then  he,  with  careful  touch 
Of  his  proved  sword,  examined  every  nich  ; 

Then,  to  the  bride  approach'd,  and  would  have  pierced 
her  couch. 

LXXII. 
Not  Eva,  lovelier  than  the  tints  of  air,  (9) 

Crouching  amid  the  leaves  lest  heaven  should  see 
That  form,  all  panting  'neath  her  yellow  hair,  (10; 

E'er  looked  more  fair,  or  trembled  more  than  she. 

LXXIII. 
But  the  pale  blaze  of  every  fragrant  lamp 

That  moment  died,  as  if  a  sudden  gust 
Of  thick  cold  air,  had  gush'd  from  cavern  damp  ; 

And  groping,  in  the  darkness,  vainly  curst 


And  struggled  Philomars.     'Twas  his  last  breath 

That  Egla  heard ;  the  suffocating  noise 
Of  the  one  lengthen'd  pang  that  gave  him  death  : 

She  swooned  upon  her  couch,  but  might  not  know  the 
cause. 

LXXIV. 

The  young  Rosanes  came  at  early  morn, 
To  view  the  corse,  that  lay  in  piteous  case, 

Grasping  the  sword  its  hand,  at  eve,  had  drawn  ; 
The  last  fierce  frown  still  stiff  upon  its  face. 


76  CANTO   THE    SECOND. 

LXXV. 

And  thus  the  youth  (in  dress  of  horseman  dight) : 
"  Art  dead  old  wolf?  If  ever,  since  his  reign, 

Pluto  was  grateful,  take  his  thanks  to  night ; 

For  who  has  sent  down  more  to  people  his  domain  ? 

LXXVI. 
"  But  prithee,  soldier,  when  the  nether  coasts 

Receive  thy  soul,  less  grim  and  angry  be ; 
Lest  the  fair  sun  be  clouded  o'er  with  ghosts 

That  rush  again  to  earth  to  'scape  the  sight  of  thee ! " 

LXXVI  I. 
Rosanes,  of  the  painted  eyebrow,  vain, 

To  gain  report  for  wit  and  valour  strove ; 
Rearing  his  Parthian  courser  on  the  plain, 

And  boasting,  at  the  feast,  of  Naiad's  love. 

LXXVIII. 
And  round  his  neck  an  amulet  he  wore 

Of  many  a  gem  in  mystic  mazes  tied ;  (11) 
And  mad  for  much  applause,  not  long  forbore 

To  name  his  wishes  for  the  dangerous  bride. 

LXXIX. 
Enough  to  tell,  he  shared  the  common  fate 

Of  those  whose  rash  adventurous  zeal  could  dare 
The  spirit-guarded  couch.     But  oh  !  thy  state, 

Altheetor,  generous  boy !  best  claims  the  minstrel's  care. 


DEATH  OF  ALTHEETOR.          77 

LXXX. 

When  Media's  last  king  died,  a  tumult  rose, 
And  all  Idaspes'  prudence  scarce  procured 

To  keep  the  youthful  Sardius  from  his  foes  ; 
And,  ere  his  father's  throne  was  yet  secured, 


Upon  a  terrace  while  Altheetor  hung 

About  the  prince,  who  carelessly  carest, 
A  well-aimed  arrow  glanced  ;  the  stripling  sprung, 

Stood  like  a  shield,  and  let  it  pierce  his  breast. 

LXXXI. 

But  sage  Pithoes  knew  the  healing  good 
Of  every  herb  ;  he  pluck'd  the  dart  away ; 

And  stopp'd  the  rich  effusion  of  his  blood 
As  at  his  monarch's  feet  the  boy  exulting  lay ; 

LXXX1I. 
Drew  forth  from  scrip,  an  antidotal  balm ; 

And  ere  the  venom  through  life's  streams  could  creep  ; 
Bestowed  for  death's  convulsions  dewy  calm, 

And  steep'd  each  throbbing  vein  in  salutary  sleep. 

LXXXIII. 

But  now  Altheetor's  sick.     The  kindly  draught, 
The  bath  of  bruised  herbs  were  vainly  tried  ; 

While  his  young  breath  seem'd  as  it  fain  would  waft 
His  soul  away; — so  piteously  he  sighed. 


78  CANTO   THE   SECOND. 

LXXXIV. 

Above  his  couch  were  hung  his  sword  and  lyre, 
His  polish'd  bow,  and  javelin  often  proved 

In  the  far  chace,  where  once  in  faith  and  fire 

He  fared  beside  to  guard  and  watch  the  prince  he  loved. 

LXXXV. 

His  fragrant  locks,  thrown  backward  from  his  brow, 
Displayed  its  throbbing  pulse  :  ah  !  how  rebelled 

That  heart,  the  seat  of  truth  !    Beside  him  now 
One  languid  hand  the  good  Pithoes  held ; 

LXXXVI. 
And  look'd,  and  thought,  and  bent  his  brow  in  vain  ; 

Then,  in  the  sadness  of  his  baffled  skill, 
Resign'd  the  boy  to  fate  ;  then  thought  again, — 

Was  there  no  hidden  cause  for  such  consuming  ill  ? 

LXXXVI  I. 

Still  o'er  the  couch  he  casts  his  gentle  eyes, 

And  brought  fresh  balm ;  but  all  was  unavailing. 

Altheetor  faintly  breathes  his  thanks,  and  sighs, 
As  if  his  guiltless  life  that  moment  were  exhaling. 

LXXXVI  II. 
'Twas  long  he  had  not  spoke ;  now  heaved  his  breast, 

And  now,  despite  of  shame,  a  tear  was  straying 
From  the  closed,  quivering  lid.     Some  grief  supprest, 

Some  secret  care  upon  his  life  was  preying. 


DEATH  OF  ALTHEETOR.          79 

LXXXIX. 

So  came  a  glimpse  across  Pithoes'  thought ; 

And,  in  obedience  to  the  doubt,  he  said, 
"  'Tis  strange,  Altheetor,  thou  hast  never  aught 

Ask'd,  or  express'd,  of  the  fair  captive  maid, 


"  For  it  was  thou  who  forced  the  crowd  to  yield, 
When  she  was  rudely  dragg'd,  on  audience  day, 

And  gently  loosed,  from  Philomars's  shield, 
A  lock  of  her  fair  hair  he  else  had  torn  away. 

xc. 

"  Sardius  believed  and  loved  her,  would  hare  wed, 
But  old  Idaspes,  doubtful  'twas  some  god 

That,  amorous  of  her  charms,  laid  Meles  dead, 
Awhile  restrained  the  King,  who  saw,  unawed, 


"  The  gay  Alcestes,  from  her  chamber  fair 

Thrown  dead  and  black.  Ripheus,  too,  lies  low; 

Old  Philomars  spoke  his  last  curses  there; 
And  young  Rosanes  ne'er  his  silver  bow 


"  Shall  draw  again ;  and  yet  the  King  is  fix'd 
In  his  resolve  to  wed ;  some  power  divine, 

Envying  our  peace,  impels  ;  or  she  has  mix'd, 
By  magic  skill,  some  philtre  with  his  wine.  (12) 


80  CANTO    THE    SECOND. 

XCI. 
"  Or  there's  in  her  blue  eye  some  wicked  light,  (13) 

That  steadily  allures  him  to  his  doom : 
She's  bidden  to  the  feast  again  to-night, 

And  good  Idaspes'  countenance  in  gloom 


"  Is  fall'n : — in  vain  he  strives ; — his  silver  hairs 
Rise  with  the  anguish  at  his  heart's  true  core ; 

While  the  impatient,  reckless  Sardius  swears 
By  Baal,  whate'er  betides,  to  wait  but  three  days  more. 

XCIT. 
"  Nor  soldier,  prince,  or  satrap,  more  appear 

Vaunting  their  fealty  firm  with  flattering  breath, 
But  each  speak  low,  as  if  some  god  were  near, 

In  silent  anger  singling  him  for  death." 

XCIII. 
Now  o'er  Altheetor's  face  what  changes  glisten'd 

As  ear  and  open  lip  drank  every -word  ; 
He  raised  him  from  his  couch,  he  looked,  he  listened, 

Reviving — renovating — as  he  heard. 

XCIV. 

O'er  cheek  and  brow  a  lively  red  was  rushing, 
While  half  he  felt  his  dark  eye  could  not  tell ; 

Then  (spent  the  pang  of  hope)  cold  dews  were  gushing 
From  brow  again  turned  pale.     He  droop'd— he  fell 


DEATH    OF   ALTHEETOR.  81 


Faint  on  his  pillow.     Unsurprised  and  calm 

Soon  to  restore  the  good  Pithoes  knew ; 
He  saw  what  fever  raged,  and  knew  its  balm  ; 

Spoke  comfort  to  his  charge ;  and  for  awhile  withdrew. 

xcv. 

What  in  his  breast  revolved,  I  cannot  tell ; 

To  seek  Idaspes'  aid  his  steps  were  bent ; 
And  when  'twas  midnight,  as  by  sudden  spell 

Restored,  to  bridal  room  Altheetor  went. 

XCVI. 

Touching  his  golden  harp  to  prelude  sweet 
Entered  the  youth,  so  pensive,  pale,  and  fair ; 

Advanced  respectful  to  the  virgin's  feet, 

And,  lowly  bending  down,  made  tuneful  parlance  there. 

XCVII. 
Like  perfume  soft  his  gentle  accents  rose, 

And  sweetly  thrillM  the  gilded  roof  along; 
His  warm  devoted  soul  no  terror  knows, 

And  truth  and  love  lend  fervour  to  his  song. 

XCVII  I. 
She  hides  her  face  upon  her  couch,  that  there 

She  may  not  see  him  die.     No  groan,  she  springs 
Frantic  between  a  hope-beam  and  despair, 

And  twines  her  long  hair  round  him  as  he  sings.  (14) 

G 


82  CANTO    THE    SECOND. 

XCIX. 

Then  thus  : — "  Oh  !  Being  !  who  unseen  but  near 

Art  hovering  now,  behold  and  pity  me  ! 
For  love,  hope,  beauty,  music, — all  that's  dear, 

Look, — look  on  me, — and  spare  my  agony  ! 

C. 

"  Spirit !  in  mercy,  make  me  not  the  cause, 
The  hateful  cause,  of  this  kind  being's  death  ! 

In  pity  kill  me  first ! — He  lives — he  draws — 
Thou  wilt  not  blast  ? — he  draws  his  harmless  breath." 

CI. 

Still  lives  Altheetor; — still  unguarded  strays 
One  hand  o'er  his  fall'n  lyre ;  but  all  his  soul 

Is  lost, — given  up; — he  fain  would  turn  to  gaze, 
But  cannot  turn,  so  twined.     Now,  all  that  stole 


Through  every  vein,  and  thrilled  each  separate  nerve, 
Himself  could  not  have  told, — all  wound  and  elapsed 

In  her  white  arms  and  hair.     Ah !  can  they  serve 

To  save  him  ? — "  What  a  sea  of  sweets  !  " — he  gasped, 


But  'twas  delight : — sound,  fragrance,  all  were  breathing. 

Still  swell'd  the  transport,  "  Let  me  look  and  thank :" 
He  sighed  (celestial  smiles  his  lip  enwreathing), 

"  I  die — but  ask  no  more,"  he  said  and  sank ; 


DEATH    OF    ALTHEETOR.  83 


Still  by  her  arms  supported — lower — lower — 
As  by  soft  sleep  oppressed  ; — so  calm,  so  fair — 

He  rested  on  the  purple  tap'stried  floor, 
It  seemed  an  angel  lay  reposing  there. 

CII. 

Egla  bent  o'er  him,  all  amazed  ; — awhile 

Thank'd  God,  the  Spirit,  and  her  stars  (so  much 

Like  life  his  gently  closing  lids  and  smile); — 
Then  felt  upon  his  heart.     Ah !  to  that  touch 


Responds  no  quivering  pulse : — 'tis  past,     Then  burst 
Her  grief  thus  from  her  inmost  heart,  that  bleeds  : — 

"  Nay,  finish !  fiend,  unpitying  and  accurst ! 

Finish,  and  rid  me  too,  of  life,  and  of  thy  deeds  ! " 

cm. 
She  hid  her  face  in  both  her  hands ;  and  when, 

At  length,  look'd  out,  a  form  was  bending  o'er 
The  good,  the  beauteous  boy.     With  piteous  ken 

It  sought  her  eye,  but  still  to  speak  forbore, 

CIV. 
A  deep  unutterable  anguish  kept 

The  silence  long  ; — then  from  his  inmost  breast 
The  Spirit  spoke,  "  Oh  !  were  I  him  so  wept, 

Daughter  of  earth,  I  tell  thee  I  were  blest: 


84  CANTO   THE   SECOND. 

CV. 

"  Couldst  thou  conceive  but  half  the  pain  I  bear, 
Or  agent  of  what  good  I  fain  would  be, 

I  had  not  added  to  my  deep  despair 
And  heavy  curse,  another  curse — from  thee. 

CVI. 

"  I've  loved  the  youth ;  since  first  to  this  vile  court 
I  followed  thee,  from  the  deserted  cave  ; — 

I  saw  him — in  thy  arms — and  did  not  hurt ; 
What  could  1  more  ? — alas  I  I  could  not  save  I 

CVII. 
"  He  died  of  love  ;  or  the  o'erperfect  joy  (15) 

Of  being  pitied, — prayed  for,— prest  by  thee. 
Oh  !  for  the  fate  of  that  devoted  boy 

I'd  sell  my  birth-right  to  eternity. 

CVIII. 
"  I  am  not  the  cause  of  this  thy  last  distress. 

Nay !  look  upon  thy  Spirit  ere  he  flies  ! 
Look  on  me,  once,  and  learn  to  hate  me  less  !" 

He  said  :  and  tears  fell  fast  from  his  immortal  eyes. 

CIX. 
Her  looks  were  on  the  corse ;  no  more  he  said  ; 

Deeper  the  darkness  grew :  'twas  near  the  dawn ; 
And  chilled  and  sorrowing  through  the  air  he  sped, 

And  in  Hircania's  deepest  shades,  ere  morn, 


DEATH    OF   ALTHEETOR.  85 


Was  hidden  'mid  the  leaves.     Low  moan'd  the  blast, 
And  chilly  mists  obscured  the  rising  sun  ; 

So  bitter  were  his  tears,  that,  where  he  past, 
Was  blighted  every  flower  they  fell  upon. 

cx, 

Wild  was  the  place,  but  wilder  his  despair : 
Low  shaggy  rocks  that  o'er  deep  caverns  scowl 

Echo  his  groans:  the  tigress,  in  her  lair, 

Starts  at  the  sound,  and  answers  with  a  growl. 

CXI. 

The4ay  wore  on  ;  the  tide  of  transport  through 
He  listened  to  the  forest's  murmuring  sound ; 

Until  his  grief  alleviation  drew, 

From  the  according  horrors  that  surround. 

CXII. 

And  thus,  at  leifgth  his  plaintive  lip  expressed 

The  mitigated  pang;  'tis  sometimes  so 
When  grief  meets  genius  in  the  mortal  breast, 

And  words,  most  deeply  sweet,  betray  subsided  woe. 

CXIII. 
"  Thou'rt  gone,  Altheetor ;  of  thy  gentle  breath 

Guiltless  am  I,  but  bear  the  penalty ! 
Oh  !  is  there  one  to  whom  thine  early  death 

Can  cause  the  sorrow  it  has  caused  to  me  ? 


86  CANTO    THE    SECOND. 

CXIV. 
"  Cold,  cold,  and  hush'd,  is  that  fond,  faithful  breast ; 

Oh  !  of  the  breath  of  God  too  much  was  there ! 
It  swelled,  aspired,  it  could  not  be  compressed — 

But  gained  a  bliss  frail  nature  could  not  bear.  (16) 

cxv. 

"  Oh !  good  and  true  beyond  thy  mortal  birth  I 
What  high-soul'd  angel  helped  in  forming  thee  ? 

Haply  thou  wert  what  I  had  been,  if  earth 
Had  been  the  element  composing  me. 

CXVI. 

"  Banish'd  from  heaven  so  long,  what  there  transpires, 

This  weary  exiled  ear  may  rarely  meet. 
But  it  is  whispered  that  the  unquelled  desires 

Another  spirit  for  each  forfeit  seat,  (17) 

"  Left  vacant  by  our  fall.     That  spirit  placed 

In  mortal  form,  must  every  trial  bear, 
Midst  all  that  can  pollute ;  and,  if  defaced 

But  by  one  stain,  it  may  not  enter  there. 

CXVI  I. 

"  Though  all  the  earth  is  wing*d,  from  bound  to  bound ; 

Though  heaven  desires,  and  angels  watch,  and  pray 
To  see  their  ranks  with  fair  completion  crowned ; 
So  few  to  bless  their  utmost  search  are  found, 

That  half  in  heaven  have  ceased  to  hope  the  day; 
And  pensive  seraphs'  sighs  o'er  heavenly  harps  resound. 


DEATH    OF    ALTHEETOR.  87 

CXVIII. 
"  And  when,  long  wandering  from  his  blissful  height, 

One  like  to  thee  some  quick-eyed  spirit  views, 
He  springs  to  heaven,  more  radiant  from  delight, 

And  heaven's  blue  domes  ring  loud  with  rapture  at  the 
news. 

CXIX. 

v  Yet  oft  the  being,  by  all  heaven  beloved, 
(So  doubtful  every  good,  in  world  like  this ;) 

Some  fiend  corrupts  ere  ripe  to  be  removed : 

And  tears  are  seen  in  eyes  made  but  to  float  in  bliss. 

cxx. 

"  Thou'lt  take  perchance,  Altheetor,  (who  so  pure, 
That  may  if  thou  mayst  not  ?)  mid  the  bright  throng, 

My  high,  my  forfeit  place;  love  would  secure 
Its  prize ;  so  kill'd  thee,  ere  below  too  long. 

CXXI. 

"  Decay  shall  ne'er  thy  perfect  form  defile, 

Nor  hungry  flame  consume.     In  dews  I'll  steep 

Thy  limbs  ;  and  thou  shalt  look  upon  the  pile 
As  gentle  as  a  maiden,  fallen  asleep 


"  'Mid  musings  of  ideal  bliss ;  and  making 
Of  her  wild  hopes,  lit  up  by  fancy's  beam, 

A  fairer  lover  than  may  woo  her  waking ; 
Blest  to  her  wish  alone  in  soft  ecstatic  dream. 


88  CANTO   THE   SECOND. 

CXXTI. 
"  And  I  will  steal  thee,  when  the  perfumes  rise* 

Around  the  cassia  wood  in  smoky  wave ; 
I'll  shroud  thee  in  a  mist  from  mortal  eyes, 

And  gently  lay  thee  in  some  sparry  cave 


"  Of  Paros ;  there,  seek  out  some  kindly  Gnome 

And  see  him  ('mid  his  lamps  of  airy  light), 
By  wonderous  process,  done  in  earth's  dark  womb, 

Change  thee,  smile,  lip,  hair,  all,  to  marble  pure  and 
white. 

CXXIII. 
"  Oh  !  my  loved  Hyacinth  !  when  as  a  god 

I  hurled  the  disk ;  and  from  thy  hapless  head 
The  pure  sweet  blood  made  flowers  upon  the  sod  ;  (18) 

'Twas  thus  I  wept  thee  1  beautiful  but  dead, 


"  Like  all  Pve  loved.     Oriel,  false  fiend,  thy  breathf 
Guided  my  weapon  :  come !  most  happy  thou 

If  my  pain  please :  I  mourn  another  death  : 

Come,  with  thy  insect  wings,  I'll  hear  thy  mockery  now. 

*  The  Assyrians,  Persians,  and  Medians,  are  said  not  to  have 
burned  their  dead ;  but  the  mother  of  Altheetor  was  an  Ionian ;  the 
only  reason  that  can  be  assigned  for  ZophieFs  supposing-  he  would 
be  burnt  after  the  Grecian  manner. 

•j-  See  fable  of  Zephyr  and  Hyacinth.  Oriel  is  supposed  to  shew 
himself  to  mortals  as  Zephyrus,  while  Phraerion  in  reality  nurses 
and  protects  the  flowers. 


DEATH    OF   ALTHEETOR. 

CXXIV. 

'  Thou  didst  not  change  his  blood  to  purple  flowers  : 
Thy  poisonous  breath  can  blight  but  not  create ! 

Thou  canst  but  hover  o'er  Phraerion's  bowers, 
And  claim  of  men  the  honours  of  his  state. 

cxxv. 

"  Thou  kill'st  my  Hyacinth  ;  but  yet  a  beam 
Of  comfort  still  was  mine  :  I  saw  preserved 

His  beauty  all  entire  ;  and  gave  a  gleam 

Of  him  to  a  young  burning  Greek ; — so  served 


"  Thy  crime  a  worthy  cause ;  for  long  inspired, 

With  a  consuming  wish,  that  Grecian's  heart, 
Lost  to  repose,  so  caught  what  it  desired ; 

And  soon  the  chiselled  stone  glowed  with  a  wondrous 
art."* 

CXXVI. 
While  thus,  the  now  half-solaced  Zophiel  brings 

Food  to  his  soul,  past  o'er  his  gloomier  mood  : 
He  shakes  his  ringlets,  spreads  his  pinions,  springs 

From  that  rude  seat,  and  leaves  the  mazy  wood. 


*  Zophiel,  as  may  be  perceived,  since  his  first  introduction,  is 
supposed  to  be  that  fallen  angel  who  was  adored  by  mortals  as 
the  god  Apollo.  This  manner  of  imparting-  to  a  young  artist 
excellence  in  sculpture,  is  not,  therefore,  out  of  character. 


90  CANTO   THE   SECOND. 

CXXVII. 
That  morn  o'er  Ecbatane  rose  pale  and  slow ; 

Thick  lingering  night-damps  clog  the  morning's  breath, 
And  veil'd  the  sun  that  rose  with  floody  glow, 

As  if  great  nature's  heart  bled  for  the  recent  death. 

CXXVIII. 

White-haired  Idaspes  from  the  fatal  room 

Bade  his  own  slaves  love's  loveliest  victim  bring, 
Fresh,  fair,  but  cold ; — and  in  that  lurid  gloom 

Set  forth  the  funeral  couch,  and  show'd  him  to  the 
king. 

CXXIX. 
And  drew  away  the  tunic  from  the  scar 

Seen  on  his  cold  white  breast ; — "  And  is  it  thou  ?" — 
He  said,  "  when  treachery  wings  her  darts  afar, 

What  faithful  heart  will  be  presented  now  1 

cxxx. 

"  Alas  !  alas  !  that  ever  these  old  eyes 

Should  see  Altheetor  thus  !  where  is  there  one, 

When  lowly  in  the  earth  Idaspes  lies, 

Will  love  and  guard  his  prince  as  thou  hast  done  ?" 

CXXXI.       . 

Sardius  believed  he  slept :  but  undeceived, 
Soon  as  be  found  that  faithful  heart  was  cold, 

He  turned  away  his  radiant  brow  and  grieved, 
And,  at  that  moment,  freely  would  have  sold 


DEATH    OF   ALTHEETOR.  91 

CXXXII. 

The  diadem,  that  from  his  locks  he  tore, 
For  that  one  life.     Idaspes  watched  his  mood, 

And  (ere  the  first  fierce  burst  of  grief  was  o'er — 
While  lost  Altheetor's  every  pulse)  pursued 


With  guardian  skill,  the  kindly  deep  design, 

He  probed  the  king's  light  changeful  heart ;  and  gained 

A  promise  that  the  maid  of  Palestine, 
Until  twelve  moons  had  o'er  his  garden  waned, 


Should  live  in  banishment  from  court.     So  sent 
To  muse,  in  peace,  upon  her  unknown  love 

(So  long  announced)  dejected  Egla  went 

With   all  her  house;   and  seeks   her  own   acacia 
grove.  (19) 


Cuba.    Pueblo  Nuevo.    June  1927. 


NOTES 

TO 

CANTO  THE  SECOND. 


(1)  u  In  every  full  deep  flower  that  crowned  his  paradise.1" 

THE  Medes  and  Persians  were  accustomed  to  retire  to  delicioi» 
gardens,  which  were  called  paradises. 

Josephus,  speaking  of  a  powerful  Babylonian  king,  says  :  "  He 
erected  elevated  places,  for  walking,  of  stone,  and  made  them 
resemble  mountains ;  and  built  them  so  that  they  might  be  planted 
with  all  sorts  of  trees.  He  also  erected  what  was  called  a  pensile 
paradise,  because  his  wife  was  desirous  to  have  things  like  her  own 
country,  she  having  been  bred  up  in  the  palaces  of  Media." 

The  same  custom  is  still  continued  in  the  east,  where  people  of 
distinction  pass  their  most  pleasant  hours  in  the  pavilions  or  kiosks 
of  their  gardens. 

(2)  u  And  to  his  manes  let  my  life-blood  flow" 

Elga  might  have  heard  of  the  gods  manes  from  some  wander 
ing  Ionian.  The  Greeks  attributed  four  distinct  parts  to  man  ; — 
the  body  which  is  resolved  to  dust ;  the  soul  which,  as  they  ima 
gined,  passed  to  Tartarus  or  the  Elysian  fields,  according  to  its 
merits  ;  the  image  which  inhabited  the  Infernal  vestibule ;  and 
the  shade  which  wandered  about  the  sepulchre  :  this  last  they  were 
accustomed  to  invoke  three  times?  and  libations  were  poured  out  to 


94  NOTES    TO   CANTO    THE    SECOND. 

this  as  well  as  to  the  gods  manes,  who  were  the  genii  of  the  dead, 
and  had  the  care  of  their  sepulchres  and  wandering  shades.— See 
Travels  ofAntenor. 

The  Jews,  besides,  at  the  time  this  scene  is  supposed  to  have 
transpired,  began  to  be  imbued  with  the  Chaldaic  superstitions  or 
belief!  "  The  modern  Jews,"  says  Father  Augustin  Calmet, 
"  hold  the  souls  of  men  to  be  spiritual  and  immortal,  but  that  they 
sometimes  appear  again,  as  well  as  good  and  evil  daemons ;  that 
the  souls  of  the  Hebrews  are  never  visible  either  in  hell  or  para 
dise,  except  their  bodies  are  buried;  that  even  after  they  are 
buried,  the  soul  makes  frequent  excursions  from  its  destined  resi 
dence  to  visit  its  former  body  and  enquire  into  its  condition  ;  that 
it  wanders  about  for  a  full  year  after  its  first  separation  from  the 
body ;  and  that  it  was  before  the  expiration  of  this  year  that  the 
Witch  of  Endor  called  up  the  soul  of  Samuel." 

Origen  and  Theophylact  say  also  that  the  Jews  and  Heathens 
believed  the  soul  to  continue  near  the  body  for  some  time  after  the 
death  of  the  person. — Calmet. 

Origen,  in  his  second  book  against  Celsus,  (continues  the  reve 
rend  Father  Dom  Augustin  Calmet)  relates  and  subscribes  to  the 
opinion  of  Plato,  who  says  "  that  the  shadows  and  images  of  the 
dead,  which  are  seen  near  sepulchres,  are  nothing  but  the  soul 
disengaged  from  its  gross  body,  but  not  yet  entirely  freed  from 
matter."  From  the  same  old  book,  which  is  probably  read  by  few, 
I  cannot  forbear  transcribing  the  following  curious  account,  which, 
however  impossible,  appears  to  have  been,  at  one  time,  generally 
believed : — 

"  If  there  is  any  truth  in  what  we  are  told  by  the  learned  Digby, 
Chancellor  to  Henrietta  Queen  of  England,  by  Father  Kircher,  a 
celebrated  Jesuit,  by  Father  Schott  of  the  same  order,  and  by 
Gafferell  and  Vallemont,  concerning  the  wonderful  mystery  of  the 
Palingenesis,  or  resurrection  of  plants,  it  will  help  to  account  for 
the  shades  and  phantoms  which  many  will  confidently  assert  they 
have  seen  in  church-yards." 


NOTES   TO    CANTO   THE   SECOND.  1)5 

The  account  which  these  curious  naturalists  give  of  their  per 
forming  the  wonderful  operation  of  the  Palingenesis,  is  as  follows: — 

(l  They  take  a  flower  and  burn  it  to  ashes,  from  which,  being 
collected  with  great  care,  they  extract  all  the  salts  by  calcination. 
These  salts  they  put  into  a  glass  vial,  and  having  added  to  them  a 
certain  compositon  which  has  a  property  of  putting  the  ashes  in 
motion  upon  the  application  of  heat,  the  whole  becomes  a  fine  dust 
of  a  bluish  colour.  From  this  dust,  when  agitated  by  a  gentle  heat, 
there  arises  gradually  a  stalk,  leaves,  and  then  a  flower ;  in  short, 
there  is  seen  the  apparition  of  a  plant  rising  out  of  the  ashes.  When 
the  heat  ceases,  the  whole  show  disappears,  and  the  dust  falls  into 
its  former  chaos  at  the  bottom  of  the  vessel.  The  return  of  heat 
always  raises,  out  of  its  ashes,  this  vegetable  phoenix,  which 
derives  its  life  from  the  presence  of  this  genial  warmth,  and  dies 
as  soon  as  it  is  withdrawn." 

Then  follows  the  manner  in  which  Father  Kircher  endeavours  to 
account  for  the  wonderful  phenomenon,  and  the  author  continues 
with  an  assertion  that  the  members  of  the  Royal  Society  at  Lon 
don  had  (as  he  was  informed)  made  the  same  experiment  upon  a 
sparrow,  and  were  then  hoping  to  make  it  succeed  upon  men. 

(3)  «  yet,  such  things  are." 

In  the  whole  catalogue  of  all  the  crimes  and  cruelties  ever  re 
corded  since  the  invention  of  letters,  there  is  nothing  so  horrid  to 
the  imagination  as  the  simple  fact  of  the  existence  of  desire  in  the 
immediate  presence  of  death  and  carnage.  Peter  the  Great,  Czar 
of  Muscovy,  killed  several  of  his  soldiers  with  his  own  hand,  at 
the  taking  of  Narva,  to  prevent  the  same  atrocity  related  of  Philo- 
mars  in  the  text. 

"  Jornandes  reconte  "  (says  Monsieur  de  Chateaubriand)  ((  que 
des  sorcieres  chassees  loin  des  habitations,  des  hommes  dans  les 
deserts  de  la  Scythie,  furent  visitees  par  des  demons  et  de  cot 
commerce  sortir  la  nation  des  Huns."  Deeds  are  still  done  which 
might  well  serve  to  prove  a  similar  origin. 


86  NOTES   TO   CANTO   THE   SECOND. 

(4)  "  And  snow-white  Egla,  mild,  and  chaste,  and  fair, 

Came  o'er  his  fancy" 

The  love  of  Sardius  for  Egla  resembles  that  of  Cyrus  for  Aspasia 
or  Milto,  of  whom  the  Chevalier  de  Lentier  gives  the  following 
account : — u  Aspasia  being  brought  to  Sardis  by  one  of  the  satraps 
of  Cyrus,  was  compelled  to  come  into  the  presence  of  that  prince 
with  many  other  women.  While  the  rest,  by  every  art,  endea 
voured  to  attract  his  attention,  Milto  stood  at  a  distance,  with  her 
eyes  fixed  upon  the  earth ;  and  Cyrus  was  so  charmed  with  the 
singularity  of  her  modesty  (or,  more  probably,  of  her  beauty)  that 
he  dismissed  all  beside,  and  remained  a  long  time  attached  to  this 
favourite." 

(5) "  with  black 

To  tip  the  eyelid, — stain  the  finger, — deck 
The  cheek  with  hues  that  languor  bids  it  lack" 

The  arts  practised  by  women  to  heighten  their  beauty,  were 
supposed  to  have  been  taught  them  by  fallen  angels. 

u  Dans  le  livre  de  la  parure  des  femmes,  chap.  2.  Tertulien 
explique,  plus  au  long,  pourquoi  le  demon  et  ses  mauvais  anges 
apprirent,  autre  ibis,  aux  femmes  Tart  de  se  farder  et  les  moyens 
d'embellir  leurs  corps.  Us  volurent,  sans  doute,  dit  il,  les  recom- 
penser  des  faveurs  qu'elles  leurs  avoient  accordes :  Tertulien 
suppose  done  qu'il  y  avoit  eu  un  mauvais  commerce  entre  les  mau 
vais  anges  et  les  femmes. 

"  Ce  paradox  n'est  pas  particulier  a.  Tertulien  que  plusieurs 
autres  peres  de  TEglise  devant  et  apres  lui  ne  Taient  pas  avance. 

"  Mais  cette  erreur  a  et£  solidement  refutee  par  St  Chrisostome, 
St  Augustin,  St  Epiphane,  &c. 

"  A  Foccasion  de  cet  etrange  commerce,  notre  auteur  fait  une 
reflection  qui  passe  les  bornes  de  la  raillerie.  Les  demons,  dit  il 
sont  venu  trouver  les  filles  des  hommes  :  tout  demons  qu'il  sont, 
ils  en  ont  etc  favorablement  re^us;  il  ne  manquoit  que  cette 
ignominie  aux  femmes,  ut  haec  ignominia  fceminae  accedat.  Nam 


NOTES   TO    CANTO   THE   SECOND.  97 

cum  et  materias  quasdam  bene  occultas  et  artes  plurasque  non  bene 
revelatas,  seculo,  muito  magis  imperito  prodidissent  (siquidem  et 
metallorum  opera  nudaverant  et  herbarum  irigenia  traduxerant  et 
incantationum  vires  promulgaverant  et  omnem  curiositatem  usque 
ad  stellarum  interpretationem  designaverant)  proprie  et  quasi 
peculiariter  fceminls  instruraentum  istud  muliebris  gloriae  contule- 
runt :  lumina  lapillonim,  quibus  brachia  arctantur ;  et  medicamenta 
ex  fuco,  quibus  lanae  colorantur  et  ilium  ipsum  nigrem  pulverem, 
quo  oculorum  exordia  producantur." 

The  above  extract  is  from  a  French  translation,  or  rather  com 
pendium,  of  Tertullian,  which  was  sent  me  by  Monsieur  Van 
Prae't,  from  the  Bibliotheque  du  Roi  at  Paris.  But  as  many  of  the 
most  curious  passages  were  entirely  omitted,  the  same  gentleman 
was  so  obliging-  as  to  look  for  the  Latin  folio,  containing  that  very 
amusing  article  of  Tertullian,  entitled  De  Habitu  Muliebri  ;  from 
which  I  had  intended  to  have  given,  in  this  note,  a  longer  extract, 
Written  out  for  me  by  Baron  Joseph  de  Palm ;  from  whose  very 
beautiful  German  verses  two  inadequate  translations  will  appear  in 
this  volume.  The  extract,  however,  was  accidentally  left  at  Paris ; 
and  Zophiel  being  reviewed  and  arranged  for  the  last  time  at 
Keswick  (England)  I  fear  it  may  not  reach  me  soon  enough  to  be 
inserted. 

(6)  "  With  wreaths  of  gems,  or  made  or  found  by  him. 
Or  his  enamoured  brothers,  when  they  bore 
Love  for  the  tike.''' 

This  passage,  like  the  preceding  one,  is  simply  in  pursuance  of 
the  belief  of  Tertullian,  that  the  custom  of  arraying  themselves 
with  gold  and  gems  was  first  taught  to  beautiful  women  by  their 
angel  lovers,  who  understood  chemistry,  and  imparted  to  them, 
among  other  ornamental  arts,  that  of  preparing  colours  for  dying 
their  garments  and  heightening  the  beauty  of  their  complexions. 
But  the  sage  Comte  de  Gabalis  says  that  gnomes  are  the  guardians 
of  minerals  and  precious  stones.  I  know  not  what  origin  he 

H 


98  NOTES   TO    CANTO    THE    SECOND. 

ascribes  to  his  "  peuples  des  elemens,"  but  he  expressly  affirms' 
that  no  sylphe  or  sylphide,  gnome  or  gnomide,  can  be  immortal, 
unless  united  with  a  son  or  daughter  of  earth.  Those  who  have 
any  curiosity  to  know  more,  must,  I  suppose,  consult  those  learned 
authors  whom  he  names  in  the  following  passage  :— 

"  En  croyez  vous,  dit  il,  plus  a  votre  nourice  qu'a  la  raison 
naturelle  qu'a  Platon,  Pythagore,  Celse,  Fsellus,  Procle,  Porphyre, 
Plotin,  Trismegiste,  Nolius,  Dornee,  Fludd  ;  qn'au  grand  Philippe 
Aureole  Theophraste  Bombast  Paracelse  de  Hohenheim,  et  qu'a 
tous  nos  compagnous  ?  " 

After  describing  the  people  of  earth,  air,  fire,  and  water,  the 
sage  continues — "  II  y  avoit  beaucoup  do  proportion  entre  Adam 
et  ces  creatures  si  parfaites  ;  parce  qu'etant  compose  de  se  qu'il  y 
avoit  de  plus  pur  dans  les  quatre  elemens  il  renfermoit  les  perfec 
tions  de  ces  quatre  especes  de  peuples,  et  etoit  leur  roi  nature!* 
Mais  des-lors  que  son  pech£  1'eut  precipit£  dans  les  particles  les 
plus  viles  des  elemens,  comme  vouz  verrez  quelque  fois,  Fharmonie 
fut  deconcertee,  et  il  (Adam)  n'eut  plus  de  proportion,  etant  impur 
et  grosier  avec  ces  substance  si  purs  et  si  subtiles." 

(7)  "  Slight  bandelets  were  twined  of  colours  Jive.''1 

There  is  a  German  work  by  Hartmann,  on  the  toilette  of  Hebrew 
women,  which  those  who  are  curious  on  the  subject  may  do  well  to 
consult. 

The  father  Calmet  has  also  written  a  dissertation  on  the  dress 
of  the  ancient  Hebrews,  which  the  French  translator  of  Tertullian 
says,  u  Ne  prouve  pas  clairement  sa  proposition."  M.  de  Chateau 
briand  introduces  his  Cymodocee  (when  arrayed  for  a  religious 
ceremony,  after  her  conversion  to  Christianity)  in  the  same  costume 
chosen  by  Egla  for  the  banquet  of  Sardius. 

(8)  "  And  oft  his  mother^  vain  in  her  delight, 

Boasted  she  owed  him  to  a  God's  embrace." 

The  Christian  fathers  did  not  in  the  least  doubt  that  many  of  the 


NOTES   TO   CANTO    THE   SECOND.  99 

heroes  of  antiquity  were  really  so  produced.  They,  however, 
supposed  that  their  fathers  were  some  of  the  banished  angels,  who 
assumed,  at  pleasure,  the  forms  of  those  gods,  under  whose  names 
they  caused  themselves  to  be  adored. 

(9)  "  Not  JKvaj  lovelier  than  the  tints  of  air." 

The  beauty  which  the  antediluvian  women  must  have  possessed, 
in  order  to  be  such  a  temptation  to  angels  as  the  Christian  fathers 
supposed  them  to  have  been,  agrees  with  the  account  of  u  Rabadan 
the  Morisco,"  whose  poem  is  said,  by  Dr  Southey,  to  contain  "  the 
fullest  Mahommedan  Genesis." 

The  Creator,  having  formed  the  earth  and  adjusted  his  plan  of 
procedure,  summoned  his  angels,  and  requested  that  one  of  them 
might  descend  and  bring  him  soil  or  clay  wherewith  to  make  a 
man  ;  but  the  angels  unanimously  expressed  a  reluctance  to  what 
they  could  but  consider  a  loathsome  and  debasing  office.  Azarael, 
however,  an  angel  of  extraordinary  stature^  flew  down,  and  col 
lected  the  material  required  from  the  north,  east,  south,  and  west, 
of  the  new-made  earth.  "  Azarael,"  said  the  Creator,  "  thou 
shalt,  in  reward  of  thine  obedience,  be  him  who  separateth  the 
souls  from  the  bodies  of  the  creatures  I  am  about  to  make  :  hence 
forth  be  called  Azarael  Malec  el  Mout,  or  Azarael,  the  angel  of 
death." 

The  Creator  then  caused  the  earth  which  Azarael  had  brought 
to  be  washed  and  purified  in  the  fountains  of  heaven,  till  it  became 
so  resplendently  clear,  that  it  cast  a  more  shining  and  beautiful 
light  than  the  sun  in  its  utmost  glory.  Gabriel  was  then  com 
manded  to  carry  this  lovely  though  as  yet  inanimate  statue  of  clay 
throughout  the  heavens,  the  earth,  the.  centres,  and  the  seas. 

When  the  angels  saw  so  beautiful  an  image,  they  said,  "  Lord, 
if  it  be  pleasing  in  thy  sight,  we  will,  in  thy  most  high  and  mighty 
name,  prostrate  ourselves  before  it."  This  proposal  meeting  the 
approbation  of  the  Creator,  the  angels  all  bowed,  inclining  their 
celestial  countenances  at  the  feet  of  the  inanimate  Adam. 


100  NOTES   TO   CANTO   THE   SECOND. 

Eblis  or  Lucifer  was  the  only  one  who  refused,  proudly  valuing? 
frimself  upon  his  heavenly  composition ;  whereupon  the  Creator 
said  to  him,  with  extreme  sternness,  "  Prostrate  thyself  to  Adam." 
tie  made  a  show  of  doing  so,  but  remained  upon  his  knees,  and 
then  rose  up  before  he  had  performed  what  God  bad  commanded 
him. 

The  other  "angels,  seeing  him  so  refractory,  prostrated  them 
selves  a  second  time,  in  order  to  complete  what  he  had  left  undone. 
For  this  reason  the  Mahommedans,  in  all  their  praters,  at  each 
inclination  of  the  body,  made  two  prostrations,  one  immediately 
after  the"  otfrer. — See  Rabadan. 

(10)  "  That  farm,  all  panting  'neath  her  yellow  hair.* 

Milton  has  described  the  hair  of  the  first  woman  as  of  a 
yellow  or  golden  tint.  This  colour  appears  to  have  been  admired 
from  the  most  remote  antiquity.  Indeed,  when  fine  eyes  and  sym 
metry  of  outline  are  united  with  a  white  transparent  skin  and  hair 
of  this  colour  in  profusion,  the  form  so  constructed  and  adorned 
seems  more  than  morfaL  Persons  of  this  complexion  are  general!}' 
of  tender,  voluptuous  dispositions,  and  not  naturally  addicted  to  the 
passions  of  hatred  and  revenge.  Such  however  are  extremely  rare  ; 
and  unless  by  the  race  of  artists,  seem,  at  present,  less  appreciated 
than  beauties  of  a  darker  shade.  Black  hair  and  eyes  embellish, 
very  much,  a  common  face  and  person  ;  and  could  one  look  entirely 
over  the  world,  the  aggregate  of  comeliness  would,  perhaps,  be 
found  greater  among  the  dark  than  among  the  fair-haired  nations. 

The  Athenian  ladies,  so  late  as  the  time  of  Alcibiades,  wore  a 
yellow  powder  in  their  hair  to  give  it  the  appearance  of  gold. 

Josephus  writes  that  king  Solomon  caused  many  of  the  finest 
horses,  of  those  presented  him  by  neighbouring  princes,  to  be  rid 
den  by  young  men,  chosen  at  the  most  beautiful  period  of  their 
lives,  and  remarkable  for  stature  aud  symmetry  of  person.  These, 
dressed  in  the  rich  colours  of  Tyre,  wore  their  hair  long,  and 
sprinkled  with  dust.  This  king,  so  renowned  for  his  wisdom,  de- 


NOTES   TO   CANTO   THE   SECOND.  101 

serves  to  be  still  more  so  for  his  taste.  The  murder  of  his  brother,* 
however,  though  so  little  mentioned,  is  a  very  dark  blot  on  his 
.character.  Pleasure  is  too  generally  selfish  and  cruel. 

(11)  "And  round  his  neck  ^n  M^nlrf  fie&ore, 
Of  many  a  gem  in^mystic  mazes  tied." 

Men  of  all  countries  and  ages  Jiayei,pu,t  faithjiu  *tLrese  ftaiisHh&ss°; 
the  Egyptians  have  left  a  great  number:  they  wore  them  on  the 
neck,  in  the  form  of  little  cylinders,  ornamented  with  figures  and 
hieroglyphics. 

"  Les  Grecs  fakoient  aussi  un  grand  usage  des  amulettes ;  ils 
attribuerent  des  propriet£s  surnaturelles  an  laurier,  au  saule,  aux 
arbrisseux  £pineux5  au  jaspe,  a  presque  tous  les  pierres  pre- 
eieuses." — Voyages  d9 Anterior. 

"  The  Arabs "  (says  Shaw)  "  bang  about  their  children's  necks 
the  figure  of  an  open  hand,  which  the  Turks  and  Moors  paint  upon 
their  ships  and  houses,  as  an  antidote  and  counter-charm  to  an  evil 
eye.  Those  who  are  grown  up  still  carry  about  with  them  some 
paragraph  or  other  of  their  Koran,  which,  as  the  Jews  did  their 
phylacteries,  they  place  upon  their  breast,  or  sew  under  their  caps, 
to  prevent  fascination  and  witchcraft,  and  to  secure  themselves 
from  sickness  and  misfortune.  The  virtue  of  these  charms  and 
scrolls  is  supposed,  likewise,  to  be  so  far  universal,  that  they  sus 
pend  them  upon  the  necks  of  their  cattle,  horses,  and  other  beasts 
of  burden." 

The  most  wonderful  properties  were  ascribed  to  precious  stones, 
some  detected  the  presence  of  poison,  others  made  ineffectual  the 
power  of  evil  spirits  and  magicians. 

u  Giafar,  the  founder  of  the  Barmecides,  being  obliged  to  fly 
from  Persia,  his  native  country,  took  refuge  at  Damascus,  and 
implored  the  protection  of  the  Caliph  Soliman.  When  he  was 
presented  to  that  prince,  the  Caliph  suddenly  changed  colour,  and 
commanded  him  to  retire,  suspecting  he  had  poison  about  him. 

*  As  related  by  Josephus, 


102  NOTES   TO   CANTO    THE    SECOND. 

Soliman  had  discovered  it  by  means  of  ten  stones  which  he  wore 
upon  his  arm.  They  were  fastened  there  like  a  bracelet,  and  never 
failed  to  strike  against  each  other  and  make  a  slight  noise,  when 
a\vy  4>oison  was  near*  .Upor}  enquiry,  it  was  found  that  Giafar 
carried  poison  iri  his  .Vang,*  for  the  purpose  of  self-destruction,  in 
case  he  h?d  been  taken  by  his  'B.iomies." — Marigny. 
1  S;r 'Walter  Scott  ^avails  Ijiaiself,  very  beautifully,  of  that  power 
of  detecting  poison  attributed  to  the  Opal. 

Belief  in  the  efficacy  of  amulets  is  too  pleasing  to  be  easily  laid 
aside ;  and  probably  will,  in  some  degree,  exist  as  long  as  the  pain 
of  fear  or  the  pleasure  of  security.  I  was  shown,  last  evening,  in 
company  with  a  young  Greek  of  Athens,  an  amulet  which  had 
belonged  to  his  deceased  companion.  It  was  a  little  square  case, 
of  silver,  suspended  from  a  chain,  in  order  to  be  worn  about  the 
neck  in  the  manner  of  a  miniature.  On  the  outside  were  three 
small  figures  in  relief;  the  Saviour,  Mar}^,  and  Martha ;  and  the 
case  contained  a  thin  slip  of  light-coloured  wood,  about  an  inch  in 
breadth,  and  an  inch  a  half  in  length,  delicately  carved,  and 
representing  a  figure  on  horseback.  This  wood  was  supposed,  by 
its  former  possessor,  to  be  a  fragment  of  the  real  cross.  The 
Greek  youth  in  whose  presence  it  was  shewn,  has  been  educated 
by  a  gentleman  of  the  south  of  England,  and  now  living  at  the  foot 
of  Skiddaw  with  his  enchanting  lady.  The  protectors  are  all 
generosity,  the  youth  all  gratitude ;  and  nothing  can  be  more  inte 
resting  than  their  family  circle.  The  latter  recollected  some  of 
the  airs  of  his  native  country,  which  were  wild  and  sweet,  and, 
accompanied  by  the  pianoforte,  had  a  fine  effect ;  and  it  was  diffi 
cult  to  forbear  thinking  of  those  lyres  which,  once,  might  possibly 
have  thrilled  to  them. 

Keswick,  April  19, 1831., 

(12)  "  By  magic  skill,  some  philtre  with  his  wine" 

The  ancients  were  much  addicted  to  this  practice,  and  sometimes 
died  in  consequence  of  mixtures  secretly  thrown  into  their  drink  or 


NOTES   TO    CANTO    THE    SECOND.  103 

food,  For  the  purpose  of  securing  their  love  for  particular  persons. 
A  prettv  incident  of  the  kind  is  introduced  into  that  very  enter 
taining-  work,  "  Les  Voyages  d'Antenor."  According  to  Josephus, 
the  immediate  cause  of  the  execution  of  Mariamne  was  Herod's 
fear  of  such  experiments.  Sending  for  this  Queen,  in  a  violent  fit 
of  fondness,  he  met  nothing  but  coldness  and  reproaches  in  return  ; 
and  while  stung  to  the  soul  at  her  behaviour,  his  mother  and  sister 
took  the  opportunity  to  inform  him  that  Mariamne  had  prepared  for 
him  a  love-potion. 

(13)  "  Or  there's  in  her  blue  eye  some  wicked  light." 

The  fear  of  hurtful  influences  emanating  from  the  eyes  of  persons 
suspected  of  magic  was  common  to  most  nations  of  antiquity  ;  and 
perhaps,  is  not  yet  entirely  laid  aside  in  some  parts  of  Europe. 

"  Les  Thessaliens,  les  Illyriens,  et  les  Triballes  etoient  celebre 
par  leurs  enchantemens.  Les  derniers,  selon  Pline,  pouvoient 
faire  perir  des  animaux  et  des  enfans  par  leurs  seule  regards. 

u  Les  anciens  craignoient  les  regards  des  envieux  autant  pour 
euxmemes  que  pour  leurs  enfans  ;  c'est  pourquoi  ils  attachoient 
les  memes  amulettes  au  cou  de  leurs  enfans  :  ils  en  mettoient  aux 
jambs  des  portes,  de  maniere  qu'en  les  ouvraut  on  agitoit  ces 
phallus,  et  on  ebranloit  les  clochettes." — Voyages  cTAntenor. 

(14)  "  And  twines  her  long  hair  round  him  as  he  sings." 

This  act  was  often  resorted  to  as  the  most  forcible  manner  of 
imploring  protection.  When  the  young  Prince  Cyrus  was  brought 
before  his  brother,  Artaxerxes,  whose  throne  he  had  attempted  to 
usurp,  Parysates,  his  mother,  entwined  him  with  her  hair,  and  by 
tears  and  entreaties  succeeded  in  saving  him  from  death. 

(15)  "  He  died  of  love  ;  or  the  o'erperfectjoy 

Of  being  pitied,— prayed  for,— prest  by  thee." 

Zimmerman,  in  his  admired  work  on  Solitude,  gives  an  instance 
of  two  Italian  lovers,  who,  after  having  been  separated,  sprang 


104  NOTES   TO   CANTO    THE   SECOND. 

into  each  other's  embrace,  and  both  died  immediately.  Joy  is 
seldom  perfect  enough  to  kill ;  but  could  it  exist  as  free  from  the 
alloy  of  any  other  sensation  as  grief  is  sometimes  felt,  it  would 
probably  destroy  life  much  sooner  from  the  circumstance  of  mortal 
nerves  being  far  less  accustomed  to  it.  "  Many,"  says  Dr  Gold 
smith,  "  die  of  grief  j  but  who  was  ever  known  to  die  of  joy  ?  '* 
Instances  of  the  latter,  though  rare,  are  sometimes  found. 

I  was  told  by  a  lady,  whose  word  there  was  not  the  least  reason 
to  doubt,  of  a  person  she  had  known  who  was  passionately  fond  of 
music.  She  had  heard  him  say,  while  listening  to  a  concert  of 
sacred  compositions,  "  I  shall  certainly  die  if  I  hear  many  more  of 
these  strains."  A  few  years  afterwards,  the  same  person  actually 
fell  dead  while  assisting  at  a  concert.  This  happened  in  a  country 
where  education  and  every  custom  tends  lather  to  the  annihilation 
than  the  culture  of  any  deep  or  violent  emotion. 

(16)  u  But  gained  a  bliss  Jr  ail  nature  could  not  bear" 
Excessive  joy,  by  preventing  sleep  (as  it  invariably  does,  in  a 

person  capable  of  feeling  it  at  all)  very  soon  procures  for  itself  a 
mitigation  proceeding  from  corporeal  uneasiness;  were  this  not 
the  case,  it  would  soon  terminate  in  death  or  madness,  even  though 
not  felt  in  a  very  unusual  degree. 

Past  joy  is  a  thing  so  pleasant  to  speak  upon,  that  raptures  are 
generally  exaggerated  in  the  telling.  When  really  intense,  as  they 
are  sometimes  described,  their  power  to  produce  death  can  scarcely 
be  doubted.  Every  one  has  heard  of  Chile's  death  in  the  arms  of 
his  son,  who  returned  victorious  from  the  Olympic  Games* 

(17)  « it  is  whispered  that  the  unquelled  desires 

Another  spirit  for  each  forfeit  seat, 
Left  vacant  by  our  fall." 

It  was  an  idea  generally  entertained  by  the  fathers,  that  the 
many  vacancies  caused  by  the  different  orders  of  angels  who  fell, 
through  love  or  ambition,  were  to  be  filled  up  by  souls  selected 


NOTES   TO   CANTO   THE   SECOND.  105 

from  the  human  species.  Another  opinion  afterwards  arose,  and 
was  favoured  by  one  or  more  of  the  Popes,  that  it  was  only  the 
tenth  order  of  the  celestial  hierarchy  which  supplied  angels,  who, 
by  falling,  assimilated  themselves  to  the  inhabitants  of  earth,  and 
that  it  is  only  to  supply  the  deficiencies  of  that  grade  that  the  best 
of  mortals  will  be  promoted."  Much  interesting  speculation  on 
this  subject  may  be  found  in  the  works  of  Dionysius,  to  which  I 
had  free  access  while  at  Paris,  but  no  time  to  make  extracts  or 
translations. 

(18)  "  Oh  !  my  loved  Hyacinth  !  when  as  a  god 

I  hurled  the  disk  ;  and,  from  thy  hapless  head, 
The  pure  bright  blood  made  flowers  upon  the  sod." 

This  and  other  passages  which  serve  to  identify  Zophiel  with 
Apollo,  are  perfectly  conformable  to  a  belief  once  acknowledged 
by  every  Christian. 

An  able  writer  in  the  North  American  Review*  appears  to  have 
read  a  great  deal  on  the  subject ;  the  following  is  not  irrelative  : — 
"Some  evil  spirits,  or  fallen  angels,  whom  the  fathers  had  cast 
out,  were  compelled  by  the  fire  of  exorcism  to  confess  that  they 
were  the  same  who  had  inspired  the  heathen  poets ;  and  these 
with  all  the  duties  of  '  gay  religions  full  of  pomp  and  gold,'  were 
confined  to  the  doom  of  that  infernal  host  described  by  Milton. 
So  far  were  the  Christians  from  denying  the  existence  of  any  of 
the  beings  of  Pagan  Mythology,  that  they  continually  urged,  as 
an  argument  in  favour  of  the  superiority  and  divinity  of  their 
faith,  the  power  which  it  gave  over  them ;  and  Eunapius  (see 
Eunapius'  life  of  Porphyry  in  his  Vitae  Philosophorum)  very 
gravely  mentions  the  story  of  Porphyry's  expelling  a  demon." 

M.  de  Fontenelle  wrote  his  c  Histoire  des  Oracles'  expressly 
to  prove  that  heathen  temples  were  not  inhabited  by  demons  or 


*  The  above  extract  is  from  an  article  entitled  '  Ancient  and  Modern  Poetry,' 
tvhich  appeared  sometime  between  the  years  twenty-one  and  four. 


106  NOTES    TO    CANTO   THE   SECOND. 

fallen  angels.  In  that  work  is  found  the  following  oracle  ex 
tracted  from  the  writings  of  Eusebius.  "  Unhappy  priest  (said 
Apollo  to  one  of  his  ministers,)  ask  me  no  more  concerning  the 
divine  Father ;  nor  of  his  only  Son ;  nor  of  that  Spirit  which  is  the 
soul  of  all  things  :  it  is  that  spirit  which  expels  me  for  ever  from 
these  abodes." 

(19)  « dejected  Egla  went 

With  all  her  house  ;  and  seeks  her  own  acacia  grove." 

The  facility  with  which  the  young  king  of  Media  forgets  his 
beautiful  captive,  setting  aside  the  effect  produced  by  the  pre 
mature  death  of  Altheetor  his  preserver,  agrees  perfectly  with 
the  following  description. 

61  Nous  rencoutrames  une  troupe  a  cheval  leste  et  brillant,  a  la 
tete  de  laquelle  etoit  le  jeune  Pharnabaze,  1'air  serein  et  radieux, 
faisant  caracoler  son  cheval,  et  plaisantant  avec  ses  camarades ; 
j'en  fus  etourdis :  je  Favois  vue,  la  veille,  desespere  ;  s'arrachant 
les  chevenx,  se  jettant  sur  le  corps  de  la  belle  Statira ;  invoquant 
la  mort,  voulant  se  poignarder ;  et,  deja,  la  rire,  le  plaisir,  avoit 
succedes  a  ce  grand  desespoir." — Voyages  d'Antenor. 


CANTO  THE  THIRD. 


PALACE    OF    GNOMES. 


ARGUMENT. 


Midnight.— Zophi&l  and  Phraerion  sit  conversing  together  near  a 
ruin  on  the  banks  of  the  Tigris.— Zophiel  laments  his  former 
crimes  ;  speaks  of  a  change  in  his  designs ;  dwells  on  the  purity  of 
his  love  for  Egla ;  and  expresses  a  wish  to  preserve  her  life  and 
beauty  beyond  the  period  allotted  to  mortals.— Phraerion  is  induced 
to  lead  the  way  to  the  palace  of  Tahathyam.— Palace  and  banquet  of 
Gnomes. — Zophiel,  by  force  of  entreaty  and  promise,  obtains  from 
Tahathyam  a  drop  of  the  elixir  of  life. 


CANTO  THE  THIRD, 


OF    GNOMES. 


'Tis  now  the  hour  of  mirth,  the  hour  of  love, ' 

The  hour  of  melancholy :  Night,  as  vain 
Of  her  full  beauty,  seems  to  pause  above, 

That  all  may  look  upon  her  ere  it  wane. 

II. 

The  heavenly  angel  watched  his  subject's  star  (1) 
O'er  all  that's  good  and  fair  benignly  smiling; 

The  sighs  of  wounded  love  he  hears>  from  far ; 

Weeps  that  he  cannot  heal,  and  wafts  a  hope  beguiling. 

III. 
The  nether  earth  looks  beauteous  as  a  gem  ; 

High  o'er  her  groves  in  floods  of  moonlight  laving, 
The  towering  palm  displays  his  silver  stem,* 

The  while  his  plumy  leaves  scarce  in  the  breeze  are  waving. 

*  The  trunk  of  the  palm-tree  is  of  a  light  dove  dt  ash-colour, 
and  assumes  a  silvery  appearance  by  moonlight. 


110  CANTO   THE   THIRD. 

IV. 
The  nightingale  among  his  roses  sleeps ; 

The  soft-eyed  doe  in  thicket  deep  is  sleeping ; 
The  dark  green  myrrh  her  tears  of  fragrance  weeps,  (2) 

And,  every  odorous  spike  *  in  limpid  dew  is  steeping. 

V. 

Proud  prickly  cerea,  now  thy  blossom  'scapes  (3) 
Its  cell ;  brief  cup  of  light;  and  seems  to  say, 

"  I  am  not  for  gross  mortals :  blood  of  grapes — 

And  sleep  for  them !     Come  spirits,  while  ye  may ! " 

VI. 

A  silent  stream  winds  darkly  through  the  shade, 
And  slowly  gains  the  Tigris,  where  'tis  lost ; 

By  a  forgotten  prince,  of  old,  'twas  made,f 
And,  in  its  course,  full  many  a  fragment  crost 


*  For  an  account  of  the  "spikenard  of  the  ancients,"  Sir  Wil 
liam  Jones  may  be  referred  to  with  pleasure.  One  species  of  it 
is  said  to  have  been  discovered  by  the  horses  and  elephants  of  the 
vazir  Afufaddaulah.  "  If  the  spikenard  of  India  was  a  reed  or 
grass,  we  can  never  be  able  to  discover  it  among  the  genera  of 
those  natural  orders  which,  here,  form  a  wilderness  of  sweets,  and 
some  of  them  have  not  only  fragrant  roots,  but  even  spikes,  to  the 
ancient  and  modern  sense  of  that  emphatical  word." 

•{•  The  ancients  throughout  Syria  (though  ignorant  of  some  use 
ful-  principles  discovered  by  modern  science)  were  very  skilful  in 
hydraulics.  Some  of  the  earlier  kings  of  that  country  had  gardens 
with  fountains  and  artificial  streams,  without  the  walls  of  Jerusalem, 
in  a  place  which  is  now  a  parched  and  barren  desert. — See  Josephus. 


PALACE   OF   GNOMES.  Ill 


Of  marble  fairly  carved  ;  and  by  its  side 
Her  golden  dust  the  flaunting  lotos  threw 

O'er  her  white  sisters,  throned  upon  the  tide, 

And  queen  of  every  flower  that  loves  perpetual  dew. 

VII. 
Gold-sprinkling  lotos,  theme  of  many  a  song 

By  slender  Indian  warbled  to  his  fair ! 
Still  tastes  the  stream  thy  rosy  kiss,  though  long 

Has  been  but  dust  the  hand  that  placed  thee  there.* 

VIII. 

The  little  temple  where  its  relics  rest, 

Long  since  has  fallen  ;  its  broken  columns  lie 

Beneath  the  lucid  stream,  and  give  its  breast 
A  whitened  glimmer  as  'tis  stealing  by, 

IX. 

Here,  cerea,  too,  thy  clasping  mazes  twine  f 

The  only  pillar  time  has  left  erect; 
Thy  serpent  arms  embrace  it,  as  'twere  thine, 

And  roughly  mock  the  beam  it  should  reflect. 

*  Of  all  the  varieties  of  this  celebrated  flower,  the  red  or  rose- 
coloured  is  the  most  admired  for  its  fragrance;  the  white  and 
yellow  give  a  fainter  odour ;  and  the  azure-coloured  lotos,  which  is 
a  native  of  Persia  and  Cashmir,  is  perhaps  the  most  beautiful  of  all. 

-f-  The  night-blooming  cereus  is  fond  of  clasping-  rocks,  old  walls, 
or  fallen  trees.  It  grows  in  profusion  where  these  verses  Were 
written  (Cuba)  and  produces  a  fruit  not  unpleasant  to  the  taste. 


112  CANTO   THE   THIRD. 

X. 

An  ancient  prince,  in  happy  madness  blest, 
Was  wont  to  wander  to  this  spot ;  and  deem'd 

A  water  nymph  came  to  him,  and  carest 

And  loved  him  well ;  haply  he  only  dream'd  ; 


But  on  the  spot  a  little  dome  arose, 

And  flowers  were  set  that  still  in  wildness  bloom : 
And  the  cold  ashes  that  were  him,  repose, 

Carefully  shrined  in  this  lone  ivory  tomb. 

XI. 
It  is  a  place  so  strangely  wild  and  sweet, 

That  spirits  love  to  come ;  and  now,  upon 
A  moonlight  fragment,  Zophiel  chose  his  seat, 

In  converse  close  with  soft  Phraerion; 

XII. 

Who,  on  the  moss,  beside  him  lies  reclining, 

O'erstrewn  with  leaves,  from  full-blown  roses  shaken, 

By  nightingales,  that  on  their  branches  twining, 
The  live-long  night  to  love  and  music  waken. 

XIII. 
Phraerion,  gentle  sprite !  nor  force  nor  fire 

He  had  to  wake  in  others  doubt  or  fear  : 
He'd  hear  a  tale  of  bliss,  and  not  aspire 

To  taste  himself;  'twas  meet  for  his  compeer. 


PALACE   OF   GNOMES.  113 

XIV. 
No  soul-creative  in  this  being  born, 

Its  restless,  daring,  fond,  aspirings  hid : 
Within  the  vortex  of  rebellion  drawn, 

He  joined  the  shining  ranks  as  others  did. 

XV. 

Success  but  little  had  advanced ;  defeat, 

He  thought  so  little,  scarce,  to  him,  were  worse; 

And,  as  he'd  held,  in  heaven,  inferior  seat, 
Less  was  his  bliss,  and  lighter  was  his  curse. 

XVI. 
He  fbrm'd  no  plans  for  happiness  :  content 

To  curl  the  tendrel,  fold  the  bud ;  his  pain 
So  light,  he  scarcely  felt  his  banishment. 

Zophiel,  perchance,  had  held  him  in  disdain; 


But,  form'd  for  friendship,  from  his  o'erfraught  soul 
'Twas  such  relief  his  burning  thoughts  to  pour 

In  other  ears,  that,  oft  the  strong  control 
Of  pride  he  felt  them  burst,  and  could  restrain  no 
more. 

Zophiel  was  soft,  but  yet  all  flame ;  by  turns 
Love,  grief,  remorse,  shame,  pity,  jealousy, 

Each  boundless  in  his  breast,  impels  or  burns  : 
His  joy  was  bliss,  his  pain  was  agony. 


114  CANTO    THE   THIRD. 


And  mild  Phraerion  was  of  heaven,  and  there, 
Nothing  imperfect  in  its  kind  can  be  : 

There  every  form  is  fresh,  soft,  bright,  and  fair, 
Yet  differing  each,  with  that  variety, 


Not  least  of  miracles,  which  here  we  trace ; 

And  wonder  and  admire  the  cause  that  form'd 
So  like,  and  yet  so  different  every  face, 

Though  of  the  self-same  clay  by  the  same  process  warm  Jd. 

XVII. 
"  Order  is  heaven's  first  law.'*     But  that  obeyed, 

The  planets  fixed,  the  Eternal  mind  at  leisure ; 
A  vast  profusion  spread  o'er  all  it  made, 

As  if  in  endless  change  were  found  eternal  pleasure. 

XVIII. 
Harmless  Phraerion  form'd  to  dwell  on  high, 

Retain'd  the  looks  that  had  been  his  above ; 
And  his  harmonious  lip  and  sweet  blue  eye 

Sooth'd  the  fallen  seraph's  heart,  and  changed  his  scorn 
to  love, 

Who,  when  he  saw  him  in  some  garden  pleasant, 
Happy,  because  too  little  thought  had  he 

To  place,  in  contrast,  past  delight  with  present, 
Had  given  his  soul  of  fire  for  that  inanity. 


PALACE   OF   GNOMES.  115 

XIX. 

But  oh !  in  him  the  Eternal  had  infused 
The  restless  soul  that  doth  itself  devour, 

Unless  it  can  create;  and  fallen,  misused, 
But  forms  the  vast  design  to  mourn  the  feeble  power. 

XX. 

In  plenitude  of  love,  the  Power  benign 
Nearer  itself  some  beings  fain  would  lift ; 

To  share  its  joys,  assist  its  vast  design 

With  high  intelligence ;  oh,  dangerous  gift !  (4) 

XXI. 

Superior  passion,  knowledge,  force,  and  fire, 
The  glorious  creatures  took ;  but  each  the  slave 

Of  his  own  strength,  soon  burnt  with  wild  desire, 
And  basely  turn'd  it  'gainst  the  one  that  gave. 

XXII. 
But  Zophiel,  fallen  sufferer,  now  no  more 

Thought  of  the  past ;  the  aspiring  voice  was  mute 
That  urged  him  on  to  meet  his  doom  before, 

And  all  dissolved  to  love  each  varied  attribute. 

XXIII. 
"  Come,  my  Phraerion,  give  me  an  embrace," 

He  said.     "  I  hope  a  respite  of  repose, 
Like  that  respiring  from  thy  sunny  face  ; 

Even  the  peace  thy  guileless  bosom  knows. 


116  CANTO   THE   THIRD, 

XXIV. 

"  Rememberest  thou  that  cave  of  Tigris,  where 
We  went  with  fruits  and  flowers  and  meteor  light, 

And  the  fair  creature,  on  the  damp  rock,  there 
Shining  and  trembling  so  ?  Ah  !  well  she  might ! 


"  False  were  my  words,  infernal  my  intent ; 

Then,  as  I  knelt  before  her  feet  and  sued ; 
Yet,  still  she  blooms,  uninjured,  innocent, 

Though  now,  for  seven  long  months,*  by  Zophiel  watched 
and  wooed. 

XXV. 

"  Gentle  Phraerion,  'tis  for  her  I  crave 

Assistance :  what  I  could  have  blighted  then, 

'Tis  now  my  only  care  to  guard  and  save; 
Companion  then  my  airy  flight  again. 

XXVI. 

"  Conduct  me  to  those  hoards  of  sweets  and  dews, 
Treasured  in  haunts  to  all  but  thee  unknown, 

For  favorite  sprites  :  teach  me  their  power  and  use, 
And  whatsoe'er  thou  wilt,  of  Zophiel,  be  it  done  ! 


*  From  the  blooming  of  the  roses  at  Ecbatamtj  to  the  coming  in 
of  spices  at  Babylon. 


PALACE   OF   GNOMES.  117 

XXVII. 
"  Throughout  fair  Ecbatane  the  deeds  I've  wrought 

Have  cast  such  dread,  that  of  all  Sardius'  train 
I  doubt  if  there  be  one,  from  tent  or  court, 

Who'll  try  what  'tis  to  thwart  a  Spirit's  love  again. 

XXVIII. 
"  My  Egla,  left  in  her  acacia  grove, 

Has  learnt  to  lay  aside  that  piteous  fear 
That  sorrow'd  thee ;  and  I  but  live  to  prove 

A  love  for  her  as  harmless  as  sincere. 

XXIX. 

"  Inspirer  of  the  arts  of  Greece,  I  charm 
Her  ear  with  songs  she  never  heard  before  ; 

And  many  an  hour  of  though tfulness  disarm 

With  stories  cull'd  from  that  vague,  wondrous  lore,  (5) 


"  But  seldom  told  to  mortals ; — arts  on  gems 
Inscribed  that  still  exist ;  but  hidden  so 

From  fear  of  those  who  told  that  diadems 

Have  pass'd  from  brows  that  vainly  ached  to  know  : 


"  Nor  glimpse  had  mortal,  save  that  those  fair  things 

Loved,  ages  past,  like  her  I  now  adore, 
Caught  from  their  Angels  some  low  whisperings, 

Then  told  of  them  to  such  as  dared  not  tell  them  more ; 


118  CANTO   THE   THIRD. 


"  But  toii'd  in  lonely  nooks  far  from  the  eye 

Of  shuddering,  longing  men  ;  then,  buried  deep, 
Till  distant  ages  bade  their  secrets  lie, 

In  hopes  that  time  might  tell  what  their  dread  oaths 
must  keep. 

XXX. 
"  Egla  looks  on  me  doubtful  but  amused  ; 

Admires,  but  trembling,  dares  not  bid  me  stay ; 
Yet  hour  by  hour  her  timid  heart,  more  used, 

Grows  to  my  sight  and  words ;  and  when  a  day 


"  I  leave  her,  for  my  needful  cares,  at  leisure 

To  muse  upon  and  feel  her  lonely  state ; 
At  my  returning,  though  restraint  her  pleasure, 

There  needs  no  Spirit's  eye  to  see  she  does  not  hate. 

XXXI. 

"  Oft  have  I  look'd  in  mortal  hearts,  to  know 
How  love,  by  slow  advances,  knows  to  twine 

Each  fibre  with  his  wreaths ;  then  overthrow 

At  once  each  stern  resolve.     The  maiden's  mine ! 

"  Yet  have  I  never  press'd  her  ermine  hand, 

Nor  touch'd  the  living  coral  of  her  lip  ; 
Though  listening  to  its  tones,  so  sweet,  so  bland, 

I've  thought, — oh,    impious  thought!  —  who  form'd 
might  sip ! 


PALACE    OF    GNOMES.  119 

XXXII. 
**  Most  impious  thought!     Soul,  I  would  rein  thee  in 

E'en  as  the  quick-eyed  Parthian  quells  his  steeds  ; 
But  thou  wilt  start,  and  rise,  and  plunge  in  sin, 

Till  gratitude  weeps  out,  and  wounded  reason  bleeds ! 

XXXIII. 

Soul,  what  a  mystery  thou  art  1  not  one 
Admires,  or  loves,  or  worships  virtue  more 

Than  I ;  but  passion  hurls  me  on,  till  torn 

By  keen  remorse,  1  cool,  to  curse  me  and  deplore. 

XXXIV. 

"  But  to  my  theme.     Now,  in  the  stilly  night, 
I  hover  o'er  her  fragrant  couch,  and  sprinkle 

Sweet  dews  about  her,  as  she  slumbers  light, 

Dews  sought,  with  toil,  beneath  the  pale  star's  twinkle, 


"  From  plants  of  secret  virtue.     All  for  lust 
Too  high  and  pure  my  bliss  ;  her  gentle  breath 

I  hear,  inhale,  then  weep  ;  (for  oh  !  she  must : 
That  form  is  mortal,  and  must  sleep  in  death.) 

XXXV. 

"  And  oft,  when  nature  pants,  and  the  thick  air, 
Charged  with  foul  particles,  weighs  sluggish  o'er, 

I  breathe  them  all ;  that  deep  disgust  I  bear 
To  leave  a  fluid  pure  and  sane  for  her. 


120  CANTO   THE    THIRD. 

XXXVI. 

"  How  dear  is  this  employ !  how  innocent ! 

My  soul's  wild  elements  forbear  their  strife ; 
While,  on  these  harmless  cares,  pleased  and  intent, 

I  hope  to  save  her  beauty  and  her  life, 


"  For  many  a  rapturous  year.     But  mortal  ne'er 
Shall  hold  her  to  his  heart !  to  me  confined, 

Her  soul  must  glow ;  nor  ever  shall  she  bear 
That  mortal  fruit  for  which  her  form's  designed. 

XXXVII. 

"  No  grosser  blood,  commingling  with  her  own, 
Shall  ever  make  her  mother.  Oh  !  that  mild 

Sad  glance  I  love — that  lip — that  melting  tone 
Shall  ne'er  be  given  to  any  mortal's  child. 

XXXVIII. 

"  But  only  for  her  Spirit  shall  she  live  ; 

Unsoil'd  by  earth,  fresh,  chaste,  and  innocent  I 
And  all  a  Spirit  dares  or  can  I'll  give; 

And  sure  I  thus  can  make  her  far  more  blest, 


"  Framed  as  she  is,  than  mortal  love  could  do ; 

For  more  than  mortars  to  this  creature  given, 
She's  Spirit  more  than  half;  her  beauty's  hue 

Is  of  the  sky,  and  speaks  my  native  heaven. 


PALACE   OF   GNOMES.  121 

XXXIX. 

"  But !  the  night  wanes !  while  all  is  bright  above," 
He  said,  and  round  Phaerion,  nearer  drawn, 

One  beauteous  arm  he  flung,  "  first  to  my  love ; 
We'll  see  her  safe  ;  then,  to  our  task  till  dawn." 

XL. 
'Tis  often  thus  with  Spirits:  when  retired 

Afar  from  haunts  of  men  ;  so  they  delight 
To  move  in  their  own  beauteous  forms  attired ; 

Though  like  thin  shades  or  air  they  mock  dull  mortals' 
sight.  (6) 

XLI. 

Well  pleased  Phraerion  answered  that  embrace  ; 
All  balmy  he  with  thousand  breathing  sweets 
From  thousand  dewy  flowers.     "  But  to  what  place," 
He  said,  "  will  Zophiel  go  ?  who  danger  greets 


"  As  if  'twere  peace.     The  Palace  of  the  Gnome,  (7) 
Tahathyam,  for  our  purpose  most  were  meet ; 

But  then  the  wave,  so  cold  and  fierce,  the  gloom, 
The  whirlpools,  rocks,  that  guard  that  deep  retreat ! 


"  Yet,  there  are  fountains  which  no  sunny  ray 
E'er  danced  upon,  and  drops  come  there  at  last 

Which  for  whole  ages,  filtering  all  the  way, 

Through  all  the  veins  of  earth  in  winding  maze  have 


122  CANTO   THE   THIRD. 

XLII. 

These  take  from  mortal  beauty  every  stain, 
And  smooth  the  unseemly  lines  of  age  and  pain, 

With  every  wondrous  efficacy  rife ; 
Nay  once  a  spirit  whispered  of  a  draught, 
Of  which  a  drop,  by  any  mortal  quaft, 

Would  save  for  terms  of  years  his  feeble  flickering  life. 


XLIII. 
"  A  Spirit  told  thee  it  would  save  from  death 

The  being  who  should  taste  that  drop  ?     Is't  so  ? 
Oh  !  dear  Phraerion,  for  another  breath 

We  have  not  time  !  come,  follow  me  !  we'll  go 

"  And  take  one  look,  then  guide  me  to  the  track 
Of  the  Gnome's  palace ;  there  is  not  a  blast 

To  stir  the  sea-fly  !  we  will  go  and  back 
Ere  morn — nay  come  ! — the  night  is  wasting  fast. 

XLIV. 
"  My  friend,  O  Zophiel !  only  once  I  went, 

Then,  though  bold  Antreon  bore  me,  such  the  pain, 
I  came  back  to  the  air,  so  rack'd  and  spent, 

That  for  a  whole  sweet  moon  I  had  no  joy  again. 

XLV. 
**  What  sayst  thou,  back  at  morn  ? — the  night,  a  day 

And  half  the  night  that  follows  it,  alas  ! 
Were  time  too  little  for  that  fearful  way  ; 

And  then  such  depths,  such  caverns  we  must  pass — " 


PALACE  OF   GNOMES.  123 

XL  VI. 
"  Nothing  !  beloved  Phraerion,  I  know  how 

To  brave  such  risks ;  and  first,  the  path  will  break, 
As  oft  I've  done  in  water  depths ;  and  thou 

Need'st  only  follow  through  the  way  I  make." 

XLVII. 
The  soft  Flower- Spirit  shuddered  ;  look'd  on  high, 

And  from  his  bolder  brother  would  have  fled ; 
But  then  the  anger  kindling  in  that  eye 

He  could  not  bear.     So  to  fair  Egla's  bed 
Followed  and  looked ;  then  shuddering  all  with  dread, 

To  wonderous  realms  unknown  to  men  he  led ; 


Continuing  long  in  sunset  course  his  flight, 

Until  for  flowery  Sicily  he  bent ; 
Then,  where  Italia  smiled  upon  the  night, 

Between  their  nearest  shores  chose  midway  his  descent.* 

XLVII  I. 

The  sea  was  calm,  and  the  reflected  moon 
Still  trembled  on  its  surface ;  not  a  breath 

Curl'd  the  broad  mirror.     Night  had  past  her  noon ; 
How  soft  the  air!  how  cold  the  depths  beneath  ! 


*  Not  far  from  the  scene  of  Vulcan's  labours ;  yet  the  regions 
sought  by  these  spirits  must  have  been  very  much  deeper. 


124  CANTO  THE  THIRD. 

XLIX. 
The  spirits  hover  o'er  that  surface  smooth, 

Zophiel's  white  arm  around  Phraerion's  twined 
In  fond  caress,  his  tender  fears  to  sooth, 

While  cither's  nearer  wing  the  other's  crossed  behind. 

L. 

Well  pleased,  Phraerion  half  forgot  his  dread  ; 

And  first,  with  foot  as  white  as  lotus  leaf, 
The  sleepy  surface  of  the  waves  essayed  ; 

But  then  his  smile  of  love  gave  place  to  drops  of  grief. 

LI. 
How  could  he  for  that  fluid  dense  and  chill 

Change  the  sweet  floods  of  air  they  floated  on  ? 
E'en  at  a  touch  his  shrinking  fibres  thrill  ; 

But  ardent  Zophiel,  panting,  hurries  on  ; 


And  (catching  his  mild  brother's  tears,  with  lip 
That  whisper'd  courage  'twixt  each  glowing  kiss) 

Persuades  to  plunge  :  limbs,  wings,  and  locks  they  dip  ; 
Whate'er  the  other's  pains,  the  lover  felt  but  bliss. 

LII. 
Rapid  he  draws  Phraerion  on  ;  his  toil 

Even  lighter  than  he  hoped  :  some  power  benign 
Seems  to  restrain  the  surges,  while  they  boil 

Mid  crags  and  caverns,  as  of  his  design 


PALACE  OF  GNOMES.  125 


Respectful.     That  black,  bitter  element, 

As  if  obedient  to  his  wish,  gave  way; 
So,  comforting  Phraerion,  on  he  went 

And  a  high  craggy  arch  they  reach,  at  dawn  of  day 


Upon  the  upper  world ;  and  forced  them  through 
That  arch  the  thick  cold  floods  with  such  a  roar 

That  the  bold  Sprite  receded ;  and  would  view 
The  cave  before  he  ventured  to  explore. 

LIU. 
Then  fearful  lest  his  frighted  guide  might  part 

And  not  be  miss'd,  amid  such  strife  and  din, 
He  strain'd  him  closer  to  his  burning  heart, 

And  trusting  to  his  strength  rush'd  fiercely  in. 

LIV. 
On,  on,  for  many  a  weary  mile  they  fare ; 

Till  thinner  grew  the  floods,  long  dark  and  dense, 
From  nearness  to  earth's  core ;  and  now  a  glare 

Of  grateful  light,  relieved  their  piercing  sense; 


As  when,  above,  the  sun  his  genial  streams 

Of  warmth  and  light  darts  mingling  with  the  waves 

Whole  fathoms  down ;  while  amorous  of  his  beams 
Each  scaly  monstrous  thing  leaps  from  its  slimy  caves. 


126  CANTO   THE   THIRD. 

LV. 
And  now  Phraerion,  with  a  tender  cry, 

Far  sweeter  than  the  land-birds  note,  afar 
Heard  through  the  azure  arches  of  the  sky, 

By  the  long  baffled  storm-worn  mariner : 


"  Hold,  Zophiel !  rest  thee  now :  our  task  is  done, 
Tahathyam's  realms  alone  can  give  this  light ! 

Oh  1  though  'tis  not  the  life-awakening  sun, 
How  sweet  to  see  it  break  upon  such  fearful  night !" 

LVI. 
Clear  grew  the  wave,  and  thin  ;  a  substance  white 

The  wide  expanding  cavern  floors  and  flanks ; 
Could  one  have  look'd  from  high,  how  fair  the  sight ! 

Like  these  the  dolphin  on  Bahaman  banks 


Cleaves  the  warm  fluid,  in  his  rainbow  tints, 
While  even  his  shadow  on  the  sands  below 

Is  seen ;  as  thro'  the  wave  he  glides  and  glints 
Where  lies  the  polished  shell  and  branching  corals  grow. 

LVI  I. 
No  massive  gate  impedes  ;  the  wave  in  vain 

Might  strive  against  the  air  to  break  or  fall ; 
And,  at  the  portal  of  that  strange  domain, 

A  clear  bright  curtain  seem'd,  or  crystal  wall. 


PALACE   OF   GNOMES.  127 

LVIII. 

The  Spirits  pass  its  bounds,  but  would  not  far 
Tread  the  slant  pavement,  like  unbidden  guest ; 

The  while,  on  either  side,  a  bower  of  spar 
Gave  invitation  for  a  moment's  rest. 

LIX. 
And,  deep  in  either  bower,  a  little  throne 

Look'd  so  fantastic,  it  were  hard  to  know 
If  busy  Nature  fashion'd  it  alone, 

Or  found  some  curious  artist  here  below. 

LX. 

Soon  spoke  Phraerion  :  "  Come,  Tahathyam,  come, 
Thou  knows't  me  well !  I  saw  thee  once  to  love ; 

And  bring  a  guest  to  view  thy  sparkling  dome 
Who  comes  full  fraught  with  tidings  from  above." 

LXI. 

Those  gentle  tones,  angelically  clear, 

Past  from  his  lips,  in  mazy  depths  retreating, 

(As  if  that  bower  had  been  the  cavern's  ear), 
Full  many  a  stadia  far ;  and  kept  repeating, 


As  through  the  perforated  rock  they  pass, 
Echo  to  echo  guiding  them ;  their  tone 

(As  just  from  the  sweet  spirit's  lip)  at  last 

Tahathyam  heard;  where,  on  a  glittering  throne 


128  CANTO   THE   THIRD. 


He  solitary  sat.    'Twas  many  a  year 
Ere  such  delightful,  grateful  sound  had  blest 

His  pleasured  sense;  and  with  a  starting  tear, 
Half  joy,  half  grief,  he  rose  to  greet  his  guest. 

LXII. 

First  sending  through  the  rock  an  answering  strain 
To  give  both  Spirits  welcome,  where  they  wait, 

And  bid  them  haste ;  for  he  might  strive  in  vain 
Half  mortal  as  he  was,  to  reach  that  gate 


For  many  a  day.     But  in  the  bower  they  hear 
His  bidding;  and,  from  cumbrous  matter  free, 

Arose;  and  to  his  princely  home  came  near 
With  such  spiritual  strange  velocity, 


They  met  him,  just  as  by  his  palace  door 

The  Gnome  appeared,  with  all  his  band,  elate 

In  the  display  of  his  resplendent  store, 
To  such  as  knew  his  father's  high  estate. 

LXIII. 
His  sire,  a  Seraph,  framed  to  dwell  above, 

Had  lightly  left  his  pure  and  blissful  home  (8) 
To  taste  the  blandishments  of  mortal  love ; 

And  from  that  lowly  union  sprang  the  Gnome, 


PALACE   OF   GNOMES.  129 


Tahathyam,  first  of  his  compeers,  and  best, 
He  look'd  like  heaven,  fair  semi-earthly  thing ! 

The  rest  were  born  of  many  a  maid  carest 
After  his  birth,  and  chose  him  for  their  king. 

LXIV. 
He  sat  upon  a  car,  (and  the  large  pearl 

Once  cradled  in  it  glimmered,  now,  without) 
Bound  midway  on  two  serpents'  backs,  that  curl 

In  silent  swiftness  as  he  glides  about.* 

LXV. 
A  shell,  'twas  first  in  liquid  amber  wet ; 

Then,  ere  the  fragrant  cement  harden'd  round, 
AH  o'er  with  large  and  precious  stones  'twas  set 

By  skilful  Tsavaven,f  or  made  or  found. 

LXVI. 
The  reins  seem'd  pliant  crystal  (but  their  strength 

Had  match'd  his  earthly  mother's  silken  band;)  J 
And,  fleck'd  with  rubies,  flow'd  in  ample  length, 

Like  sparkles  o'er  Tahathyam's  beauteous  hand. 

*  This  manner  of  bearing  the  car  is  not  inconsistent  with  the 
known  docility  and  strength  of  serpents  in  general. 

•h  Tsavaven  signifies  tint-gem. 

^1  It  has  been  said  that  an  art  once  existed  of  composing  a  sub« 
stance  which,  together  with  a  perfect  pliancy,  had  the  colour  and 
transparency  of  glass  or  crystal. 


130  CANTO   THE   THIRIX 

LXVII. 
The  reptiles,  in  their  fearful  beauty,  drew  (9) 

As  if  from  love,  like  steeds  of  Araby ; 
Like  blood  of  lady's  lip  their  scarlet  hue ; 

Their  scales  so  bright  and  sleek,  'twas  pleasure  but  to  see. 

LXVIII. 
With  open  mouths,  as  proud  to  show  the  bit, 

They  raise  their  heads,  and  arch  their  necks — (with  eye 
As  bright  as  if  with  meteor  fire  'twere  lit) ; 

And  dart  their  barbed  tongues,  'twixt  fangs  of  ivory. 

LXIX. 

These,  when  the  quick-advancing  Sprites  they  saw 
Furl  their  swift  wings,  and  tread  with  angel  grace 

The  smooth  fair  pavement,  check'd  their  speed  in  awe, 
And  glided  far  aside  as  if  to  give  them  space. 

LXX. 

Tahathyam,  lighted  with  a  pleasing  pride, 
And  in  like  guise,  to  meet  the  strangers  bent 

His  courteous  steps  ;  the  while  on  either  side 
Fierce  Aishalat  and  Pshaamayim  went. 

LXXI. 

Bright  Ramaour  followed  on,  in  order  meet;  (10) 

Then  Nahalcoul  and  Zotzaraven,  best 
Beloved,  save  Rouamasak  of  perfume  sweet; 

Then  Talhazak  and  Marmorak;  the  rest 


PALACE   OF   GNOMES.  131 


A  crowd  of  various  use  and  properties, 
Arranged  to  meet  their  monarch's  wishes,  vie 

In  seemly  show  to  please  the  stranger's  eyes, 
And  show  what  could  be  wrought  without  or  soil  or  sky, 

LXXII. 

And|  Zophiel,  though  a  spirit,  ne'er  had  seen 

The  like  before ;  and,  for  he  had  to  ask 
A  boon,  almost  as  dear  as  heaven,  his  mien 

Was  softness  all ;  but  'twas  a  painful  task 


To  his  impatience  thus  the  time  to  wait 
Due  to  such  welcome:  all  his  soul  possest 

With  thoughts  of  her  he'd  left  in  lonely  state, 
Unguarded,  how  he  burnt  to  proffer  his  request ! 

LXXIII. 
The  fond  Phraerion  look'd  on  him,  and  knew 

How  much  it  pain'd  him  here  below  to  stay ; 
So  towards  the  princely  Gnome  he  gently  drew 

To  tell  what  purpose  brought  them  down  from  day; 


And  said,  "  O  !  king,  this  humble  offering  take; 

How  hard  the  task  to  bring  I  need  not  tell ; 
Receive  the  poor,  poor  gift,  for  friendship's  sake  !}J 

Tahathyam.  took  a  yellow  asphodel, 


132  CANTO   THE   THIRD, 


A  deep-blue  lotus,  and  a  full  moss-rose, 

And  then  spoke  out,  "  My  Talhazak,  come  hither, 

Look  at  these  flowers,  cropt  where  the  sun-beam  glows ; 
Crust  them  with  diamond,  never  let  them  wither  I  "  * 

LXXIV. 
Then,  soon,  Phraerion :  "  Monarch,  if 'tis  truth,       * 

Thou  hast  (and  that  'tis  false  sweet  powers  forfend  !) 
A  draught  whose  power  perpetuates  life  and  youth, 

Wilt  thou  bestow  one  drop  upon  my  friend  ?  " 

LXXV. 

Then  Zophiel  could  no  more  withhold,  but  knelt 
And  said,  "  Oh  !  sovereign  !  happier  far  than  I ! 

Born  as  thou  wert,  and  in  earth's  entrails  pent, 
Though  once  I  shared  thy  father's  bliss  on  high. 

LXXVI. 

One  only  draught !  and  if  its  power  I  prove, 

By  thy  sweet  mother,  to  an  Angel  dear, 
Whate'er  thou  wilt,  of  all  the  world  above, 

Down  to  these  nether  realms  I'll  bring  thee  every  year. 


*  Diamond?  it  is  said,  is  but  crystal  of  carbon.  Tahathyam, 
however,  might  not  have  meant  to  have  his  flowers  literally 
covered  or  encrusted  with  diamond,  but  might  only  have  used  this 
expression  to  impress  on  Talhazak  a  sense  of  the  value  he  held 
them  in. 


PALACE   OF   GNOMES.  133 

LXXVII. 
Thy  tributary  slave,  I'll  scorn  the  pain, 

Though  storms  and  rocks  my  feeling  substance  tear ! 
Tahathyam,  let  me  not  implore  in  vain, 

Give  me  the  draught,  and  save  me  from  despair  ! 

LXXVIII. 
Tahathyam  paused ;  as  if  the  bold  request 

He  liked  not  to  refuse,  nor  wish'd  to  grant; 
Then  (after  much  revolving  in  his  breast), 

"  What  of  this  cup  can  an  Immortal  want  ? 

LXXIX. 

"  My  Angel  sire,  for  many  a  year,  endured 
The  vilest  toils,  deep  hidden  in  the  ground, 

To  mix  this  drink ;  nor  was't  at  last  procured 

Till  all  he  fear'd  had  happ'd :  Death's  sleep  profound 


"  Seized  my  fair  mother.     I  had  shared  her  doom : 
Mortal,  like  her  he  held  than  heaven  more  dear; 

But,  by  his  chymic  arts,  he  robb'd  the  tomb 
And  fixed  my  solitary  being  here ; 


"  As  if  to  hide  from  the  Life-giver's  eye, 
Of  his  presumptuous  task,  untried  before 

The  prized  success,  bidding  the  secret  lie  . 
For  ever  here;  I  never  saw  him  more, 


134  CANTO   THE   THIRD, 


"  When  this  was  done.    Yet  what  avails  to  live, 
From  age  to  age,  thus  hidden  'neath  the  wave  ? 

Nor  life  nor  being  have  I  power  to  givey\ 
And  here,  alas  !  are  no  more  lives  to  save  ! 

LXXX. 

"  For  my  loved  father's  sight  in  vain  I  pine  ! 

Where  is  the  bright  Cephroniel  ?  Spirit  tell  (11) 
But  how  he  fares,  and  what  thou  ask'st  is  thine !" 

Fair  hope  from  ZophieTs  look  that  moment  fell. 

LXXXI. 

The  anxious  Gnome  observed ;  and  soon  bethought 

How  far  his  exile  limited  his  will ; 
And  half  divining  why  he  so  besought 

Gift,  worthless,  save  to  man,  continued  still 


His  speech : — "  Thou  askest  much :  should  I  impart 
Spirit,  to  thee,  what  my  great  father  fain 

Would  hide  from  heaven  ?  and  what  with  all  his  art 
Even  the  second  power  desires  in  vain  ?* 

LXXXI  I. 

"  All  long  but  cannot  touch  :  a  sword  of  flame 
Guards  the  life-fruit  once  seen.     Yet,  Spirit,  know 

There  is  a  service, — do  what  I  shall  name, 
And  let  the  danger  threaten, — I'll  bestow. 
*  Sathan,  or  evil. 


PALACE   OF   GNOMES.  135 

LXXXIII. 
**  But  first  partake  our  humble  banquet,  spread 

Within  these  rude  walls,  and  repose  awhile ;" — 
He  said,  and  to  the  sparry  portal  led 

And  usher'd  his  fair  guests  with  hospitable  smile. 

LXXXIV. 

High  tower' d  the  palace  and  its  massive  pile, 

Made  dubious  if  of  nature  or  of  art, 
So  wild  and  so  uncouth;  yet,  all  the  while, 

Shaped  to  strange  grace  in  every  varying  part. 

LXXXV. 

And  groves  adorn'd  it,  green  in  hue,  and  bright 

As  icicles  about  a  laurel-tree ; 
And  danced  about  their  twigs  a  wonderous  light ; 

Whence  came  that  light  so  far  beneath  the  sea  ? 

LXXXVI. 

Zophiel  looked  up  to  know,  and  to  his  view 

The  vault  scarce  seem'd  less  vast  than  that  of  day ; 

No  rocky  roof  was  seen  ;  a  tender  blue 

Appear'd,  as  of  the  sky,  and  clouds  about  it  play :  * 


*  It  was  perfectly  in  the  power  of  optics  and  chemistry,  of 
which  sciences  these  beings  were  in  possession,  to  produce  the 
effect  described  beneath  the  roof  of  so  vast  a  cavern. 


136  CANTO   THE   THIRD. 

LXXXVII. 
And,  in  the  midst,  an  orb  look'd  as  'twere  meant 

To  shame  the  sun,  it  mimick'd  him  so  well. 
But  ah!  no  quickening,  grateful  warmth  it  sent; 

Cold  as  the  rock  beneath,  the  paly  radiance  fell, 

LXXXVII  I. 
Within,  from  thousand  lamps  the  lustre  strays, 

Reflected  back  from  gems  about  the  wall ; 
And  from  twelve  dolphin  shapes  a  fountain  plays, 

Just  in  the  centre  of  the  spacious  hall : 

LXXXIX. 

But  whether  in  the  sunbeam  form'd  to  sport, 
These  shapes  once  lived  in  suppleness  and  pride, 

And  then,  to  decorate  this  wonderous  court, 
Were  stolen  from  the  waves  and  petrified, 


Or,  moulded  by  some  imitative  Gnome, 

And  scaled  all  o'er  with  gems,  they  were  but  stone, 
Casting  their  showers  and  rainbows  'neath  the  dome, 

To  man  or  angel's  eye  might  not  be  known. 

XC. 
No  snowy  fleece  in  these  sad  realms  was  found, 

Nor  silken  ball,  by  maiden  loved  so  well ; 
But  ranged  in  lightest  garniture  around, 

In  seemly  folds,  a  shining  tapestry  fell. 


PALACE   OF   GNOMES.  137 

XCI. 

And  fibres  of  asbestos,  bleached  in  fire, 

And  all  with  pearls  and  sparkling  gems  o'er-fleck'd, 
Of  that  strange  court  composed  the  rich  attire, 

And  such  the  cold,  fair  form  of  sad  Tahathyam  deck'd. 

XCII. 
Of  marble  white  the  table  they  surround, 

And  reddest  coral  deck'd  each  curious  couch, 
Which  softly  yielding  to  their  forms  was  found, 

And  of  a  surface  smooth  and  wooing  to  the  touch* 

XCIII. 
Of  sunny  gold  and  silver,  like  the  moon, 

Here  was  no  lack  ;  but  if  the  veins  of  earth, 
Torn  open  by  man's  weaker  race,  so  soon 

Supplied  the  alluring  hoard,  or  here  had  birth 


That  baffling,  maddening,  fascinating  art,  (12) 
Half  told  by  Sprite  most  mischievous,  that  he 

Might  laugh  to  see  men  toil,  then  not  impart, 
The  guests  left  unenquired : — 'tis  still  a  mystery. 

XCIV. 
Here  were  no  flowers,  but  a  sweet  odour  breathed, 

Of  amber  pure ;  a  glistening  coronal, 
Of  various-coloured  gems,  each  brow  enwreathed, 

In  form  of  garland,  for  the  festival. 


138  CANTO   THE   THIRD. 

XCV. 

All  that  the  shell  contains  most  delicate, 
Of  vivid  colours,  ranged  and  drest  with  care, 

Was  spread  for  food,  and  still  was  in  the  state 
Of  its  first  freshness :— if  such  creatures,  rare 

Among  cold  rocks,  so  far  from  upper  air, 
By  force  of  art,  might  live  and  propagate, 

Or  were  in  hoards  preserved,  the  muse  cannot  declare. 

xcvi. 
But  here,  so  low  from  the  life-wakening  sun, 

However  humble,  life  was  sought  in  vain ; 
But  when  by  chance,  or  gift,  or  peril  won, 

'Twas  prized  and  guarded  well  in  this  domain. 

XCVII. 

Four  dusky  Spirits,  by  a  secret  art 

Taught  by  a  father,  thoughtful  of  his  wants, 

Tahathyam  kept,  for  menial  toil  apart, 
But  only  deep  in  sea  were  their  permitted  haunts. 

XCVI  1 1. 
The  banquet-cups,  of  many  a  hue  and  shape, 

Boss'd  o'er  with  gems,  were  beautiful  to  view ; 
But,  for  the  madness  of  the  vaunted  grape, 

Their  only  draught  was  a  pure  limpid  dew,     t 


PALACE   OF   GNOMES.  139 


To  Spirits  sweet;  but  these  half-mortal  lips 

Long'd  for  the  streams  that  once  on  earth  they  quaffed ; 

And,  half  in  shame,  Tahathyam  coldly  sips 
And  craves  excuses  for  the  temperate  draught. 

XCIX.       x 
"Man  tastes"  he  said,  "the  grape's  sweet  blood  that 

streams 

To  steep  his  heart  when  pain'd ;  when  sorrowing  he 
In  wild  delirium  drowns  the  sense,  and  dreams 
Of  bliss  arise,  to  cheat  his  misery." 

C. 

Nor  with  their  dews  were  any  mingling  sweets 
Save  those,  to  mortal  lip,  of  poison  fell ; 

No  murmuring  bee,  was  heard  in  these  retreats, 
The  mineral  clod  alone  supplied  their  hydromel. 

CI. 

The  Spirits  while  they  sat,  in  social  guise, 
Pledging  each  goblet  with  an  answering  kiss, 

Mark'd  many  a  Gnome  conceal  his  bursting  sighs  ; 
And  thought  death  happier  than  a  life  like  this. 

Cll. 
But  they  had  music ;  at  one  ample  side 

Of  the  vast  area  of  that  sparkling  hall, 
Fringed  round  with  gems,  that  all  the  rest  outvied; 

In  form  of  canopy,  was  seen  to  fall  (13) 


J40  CANTO   THE  THIRD. 


The  stony  tapestry,  over  what,  at  first, 

An  altar  to  some  deity  appear'd ; 
But  it  had  cost  full  many  a  year  to  adjust 

The  limpid  crystal  tubes  that  'neath  uprear'd 


Their  different  gleaming  lengths ;  and  so  complete 
Their  wondrous  rangement,  that  a  tuneful  Gnome 

Drew  from  them  sounds  more  varied,  clear,  and  sweet, 
Than  ever  yet  had  rung  in  any  earthly  dome. 

cm. 
Loud,  shrilly,  liquid,  soft ;  at  that  quick  touch 

Such  modulation  woo'd  his  angel  ears 
That  Zophiel  wonder'd,  started  from  his  couch 

And  thought  upon  the  music  of  the  spheres. 

CIV. 

Tahathyam  mark'd  ;  and  casting  down  the  board 
A  wistful  glance  to  one  who  shared  his  cheer, 
"  My  Ragasycheon,"*  said  he ;  at  his  word 

A  Gnome  arose,  and  knew  what  strains  he  fain  would 
hear. 


*  This  name  is  compounded  of  a  Hebraic  and  a  Greek  word, 
and  signifies  to  move  or  affect  the  soul. 


PALACE   OF   GNOMES.  141 

CV. 

More  like  the  dawn  of  youth  in  form  and  face, 
And  than  his  many  pheres  more  lightly  drest, 

Yet  unsurpassed  in  beauty  and  in  grace, 
Silken-haired  Ragasycheon  soon  express'd 


The  feelings  rising  at  his  master's  heart ; 

Choosing  such  tones  as  when  the  breezes  sigh 
Through  some  lone  portico;  or  far  apart, 

From  ruder  sounds  of  mirth  in  the  deep  forest  die, 

CVI. 

Preluding  low,  in  notes  that  faint  and  tremble, 
Swelling,  awakening,  dying,  plaining  deep, 

While  such  sensations  in  the  soul  assemble, 
As  make  it  pleasure  to  the  eyes  to  weep. 

CVII. 
Is  there  a  heart  that  ever  loved  in  vain, 

Though  years  have  thrown  their  veil  o'er  all  most  dear, 
That  lives  not  each  sensation  o'er  again 

In  sympathy  with  sounds  like  those  that  mingle  here  ? 

CVIII. 

Still  the  fair  Gnome's  light  hand  the  chime  prolongs ; 

And  while  his  utmost  art  the  strain  employs, 
Cephroniel's  softened  son  in  gushing  songs, 

Pour'd  forth  his  sad,  deep  sense  of  long  departed  jqys, 


142  CANTO   THE   THIRD. 

CIX. 
SONG. 

Oh,  my  Phronema  !  how  thy  yellow  hair 
Was  fragrant,  when,  by  looks  alone  carest, 

I  felt  it,  wafted  by  the  pitying  air, 
Float  o'er  my  lips  and  touch  my  fervid  breast ! 

How  my  least  word  lent  colour  to  thy  cheek  ! 

And  how  thy  gentle  form  would  heave  and  swell, 
As  if  the  love  thy  heart  contained  would  break 

That  warm  pure  shrine  where  nature  bade  it  dwell. 

We  parted ;  years  are  past,  and  thou  art  dead  : 
Never,  Phronema,  can  I  see  thee  more ! 

One  little  ringlet  of  thy  graceful  head 
Lies  next  my  heart ;  'tis  all  I  may  adore. 

Torn  from  thy  sight,  to  save  a  life  of  gloom, 
Hopes  unaccomplished,  warmest  wishes  crost — 

How  can  I  longer  bear  my  weary  doom  ? 
Alas  !  what  have  I  gain'd  for  all  I  lost  ? 

ex. 

The  music  ceased  ;  and  from  Tahathyam  pass'd 
The  mournful  extacy  that  lent  it  zest ; 

But  tears  adown  his  paly  cheek  fell  fast, 
And  sprinkled  the  asbestos  o'er  his  breast. 


PALACE   OF   GNOMES.  143 

CXI. 

Then  thus :  "  If  but  a  being  half  so  dear 

Could  to  these  realms  be  brought,  the  slow  distress 

Of  my  long  solitude  were  less  severe, 
And  I  might  learn  to  bear  my  weariness. 

CXII. 
"  There's  a  nepenthic  draught,  which  the  warm  breath 

Of  mortals,  when  they  quaff,  keeps  in  suspense; 
Giving  the  pale  similitude  of  death, 

While  thus  chain'd  up  the  quick  perceptive  sense. 


"  Haply  'twere  possible.    But  to  the  shrine, 
Where  like  a  god  I  guard  Cephroniel's  gift!" 

Soon  through  the  rock  they  wind ;  the  draught  divine 
Was  hidden  by  a  veil  the  king  alone  might-  lift. 

CXIII. 
Cephroniel's  son,  with  half-averted  face 

And  faultering  hand,  that  curtain  drew,  and  show'd, 
Of  solid  diamond  formed,  a  lucid  vase ; 

And  warm  within  the  pure  elixir  glow'd ; 

CXIV. 

Bright  red,  like  flame  and  blood,  (could  they  so  meet) 
Ascending,  sparkling,  dancing,  whirling,  ever 

In  quick  perpetual  movement ;  and  of  heat 
So  high,  the  rock  was  warm  beneath  their  feet, 

(Yet  heat  in  its  intenseness  hurtful  never), 


144  CANTO   THE   THIRD. 


Even  to  the  entrance  of  the  long  arcade 

Which  led  to  that  deep  shrine,  in  the  rock's  breast 

As  far  as  if  the  half-angel  were  afraid 
To  know  the  secret  he  himself  possessed. 

cxv. 

Tahathyam  filled  a  slip  of  spar  with  dread,1 
As  if  stood  by  and  frown'd  some  power  divine ; 

Then  trembling,  as  he  turned  to  Zophiel  said, 
"  But  for  one  service  shalt  thou  call  it  thine. 

cxvi. 

"  Bring  me  a  wife ;  as  I  have  named  the  way ; 
(I  will  not  risk  destruction  save  for  love !) 

Fairrhaired  and  beauteous  like  my  mother ;  say- 
Plight  me  this  pact ;  so  shalt  thou  bear  above, 


"  For  thine  own  purpose,  what  has  here  been  kept 
(Since  bloom'd  the  second  age,  to  Angels  dear. 

Bursting  from  earth's  dark  womb  the  fierce  wave  swept 
Off  every  form  that  lived  and  loved,  while  here, 

Deep  hidden  here,  I  still  lived  on  and  wept." 

CXVII. 

Then,  Zophiel,  pitying  his  emotion :  "  So 
I  promise;  nay,  unhappy  prince,  I  swear 

By  what  I  dare  not  utter ;  I  will  go 

And  search ;  and  one  of  all  the  loveliest  bear 


PALACE   OF   GNOMES.  145 


"  Away,  the  while  she  sleeps,  to  be  thy  wife  : 
Give  her  nepenthic  drink,  and  through  the  wave 

Brave  hell's  worst  pains  to  guard  her  gentle  life. 
Monarch !  'tis  said ;  now,  give  me  what  I  crave ! 

CXVIII. 
"  Tahathyam  Evanath,*  son  of  a  sire 

Who  knew  how  love  burns  in  a  breast  divine, 
If  this  thy  gift  sustain  one  vital  fire, 

Sigh  not  for  things  of  earth,  for  all  earth's  best  are  thine." 

CXIX. 

He  took  the  spar  :  the  high-wrought  hopes  of  both 

Forbad  delay.     So  to  the  palace  back 
They  came  ;  Tahathyam  faintly  pressed ;  nor  loth 

Saw  his  fair  guests  depart  to  wend  their  watery  track. 

*  From  eva,  life ;  and  nathan,  to  give. 


Cuba.   Pueblo  Nuevo,  July  1828. 


NOTES 

TO 

CANTO    THE    THIRD. 


HAVING  liberty,  while  at  Paris,  to  take  any  books  I  might  wish 
from  the  Bibliotheque  du  Roi,  and  M.  Van  Prae't  being  very 
obliging  in  looking  for  them,  it  was  in  my  power  to  make  much 
more  copious  notes  than  will  appear  to  this  Canto,  which,  from 
its  subject,  admits  of  a  great  variety.  Many  obstacles  and  en 
gagements  occurred  to  prevent ;  which  I  regret  only,  because  many 
passages  of  the  old  Christian  writers  and  their  Pagan  contem 
poraries  on  the  subject  of  angels  and  other  spirits,  are  extremely 
curious  and  entertaining.  Sufficient  poetical  authority  is,  however, 
given  for  the  incidents  of  the  story,  and  the  text,  perhaps,  is  suf 
ficiently  explained.  Copious  notes  extracted  from  the  works  of 
others,  indicate  nothing  but  toil  and  patience  in  the  writer. 

(1)  "  The  heavenly  angel  watched  his  subject  star" 

This  line  is  in  accordance  with  the  belief  that  the  stars  are 
guarded  by  celestial  intelligences,  to  the  prevalence  of  which 
many  passages  in  the  sacred  writings  bear  testimony,  and  from 
which  may  be  inferred  a  possibility  that  each  inhabited  and  sepa 
rate  planet  may,  in  reality,  be  under  the  care  of  some  delegate 
spirit.  Saturninus  of  Antioch  taught  that  "  the  world  and  its  first 
inhabitants  were  created  by  seven  angels,  which  presided  over  the 
seven  planets ;"  and  that  "the  work  was  carried  on,  without  the 


148  NOTES   TO   CANTO   THE   THIRD. 

knowledge  of  the  benevolent  deity,  and  in  opposition  to  the  material 
principle.  The  former,  however,  beheld  it  with  approbation,  and 
honoured  it  with  several  marks  of  his  beneficence." 

Many  singular  systems  of  this  kind  are  classed  under  the  name 
of  heresies  by  Mosheim. 

(2)  u Myrrh  her  tears  of  fragrance  'Keeps.1'1 

I  had  hoped  to  see  the  plant  myrrh  in  the  Jardin  des  Plantes  at 
Paris,  but  was  disappointed.  Its  appearance,  however,  can  be 
easily  conceived  by  the  following : — "  Mr  Bruce,  while  in  Abys 
sinia,  made  some  remarks  on  the  myrrh  tree,  which  are  to  be 
found  in  the  i  Journal  de  Physique/  &c.,  tome  xiii.  1778.  He 
(Bruce)  says,  that  the  naked  troglodites  brought  him  specimens 
of  myrrh,  of  which  both  the  leaves  and  bark  bore  a  great  resem 
blance  to  the  acacia  vera."  Among  the  leaves  he  observed  some 
straight  prickles  about  two  inches  in  length.  He  likewise  mentions 
seeing  a  sajfa  tree^  which  was  a  native  of  the  myrrh  country, 
covered  with  beautiful  crimson  flowers.  Drops  of  perfume  distil 
from  this  tree  which  probably  harden  into  that  substance  called 
myrrh,  which  is  common  in  medicine.  In  one  of  the  letters  of 
M .  Demoustierrs  delightful  work  on  Mythology,  the  young  Adonis 
is  represented  as  pointing  to  a  myrrh  tree,  and  exclaiming, "  Helas ! 
ces  larmes  precieuses  sont  les  pleurs  de  ma  mere  !n  who,  according 
to  the  fable,  was  metamorphosed  by  the  gods  in  compassion  to  her 
grief. 

(3)  "  Proud  prickly  cerea,  now  thy  blossom  ''scapes 

Its  cell." 

Few  persons  have  seen  the  blossom  of  this  astonishing  flower, 
because  it  only  opens  at  or  after  midnight,  and  is  so  evanescent, 
that,  unless  constantly  watched,  it  is  difficult  to  know  the  exact 
time  of  its  perfection.  It  is  large  and  of  a  yellowish  white,  and, 
in  its  cup,  or,  rather,  in  the  midst  of  its  fragrant  petals,  there  is  an* 
appearance  of  lambent  light  or  flame,  resembling  burning  nitre. 


NOTES   TO    CANTO   THE   THIRD.  149 

(4)  ((  To  share  its  joys,  assist  its  vast  design 

With  high  intelligence  ;  oA,  dangerous  gift" 
It  is  said  that  the  angels  who  rebelled  were  among  the  most  wise 
and  powerful  of  celestial  creatures.     None  of  them  were  more  re 
splendent  in  beauty  tlian  Lucifer,  who  drew  with  him,  when  he 
fell,  a  third  part  of  the  stars  of  heaven. 

The  supposition  that  many  beings,  subordinate  to  the  Supreme 
will,  were  employed  in  that  disposition  of  matter  called  "The 
Creation,"  is  not  only  according  to  every  system  of  religion,  but 
agreeable  to  all  analogy.  "  God  said  let  there  be  light,  and  light  was." 
The  King  of  Persia  commanded  a  temple  to  be  built,  aud  it  rose. 
There  is  little  more  reason  to  believe  that  the  first  was  accomplished 
without  multiplied  means  and  agency  than  the  last.  Everything 
in  natural  history,  and  in  natural  philosophy  favours  the  idea  of  an 
infinity  of  beings  to  supply  the  gradations  between  man  and  the 
Sovereign  of  creation.  Indeed,  after  thinking  a  little  on  the  sub 
ject,  it  seems  almost  absurd  to  believe  the  contrary.  This  belief, 
besides,  is  far  more  pleasing  in  itself  than  that  of  regarding  the 
Supreme  giver  of  life  only  as  an  all-competent  artizan. 

M.  1'Abbe  Poule,  discoursing  upon  a  future  state  of  existence, 
gives  the  following  passage  : — 

"  II  ne  seront  plus  cach£,  pour  nous,  ces  etres  innombrable,  qui 
echappent  a  nos  connoisances  par  leur  £loignement  ou  par  leur 
petitesse ;  les  difF^  rentes  parties  qui  compose  le  vaste  ensemble  de 
Tunivers  ;  leur  structures,  leur  rapport,  leur  harmonic ;  ils  ne  seront 
plus  des  enigmes,  pour  nous,  ces  jeux  surprenans,  ces  secrets  pro- 
fonds  de  la  nature,  ces  ressorts  admirable  que  la  providence  emploie 
pour  la  conservation  et  la  propagation  de  tous  les  etres." 

I  translate  from  the  French  of  M.  de  Chateaubriand,  the  follow 
ing  delightful  passage  : — "  The  sovereign  happiness  of  the  elect  is 
a  consciousness  that  their  joys  are  never  to  be  terminated.  They 
are  incessantly  in  the  same  delicious  state  of  mind,  as  a  mortal  who 
has  just  performed  a  good  or  heroic  action  ;  a  man  of  genius  who 
has  just  given  birth  to  a  sublime  conception ;  of  a  person  in  the 


150  NOTES   TO    CANTO    THE   THIRD. 

first  transports  of  an  imforbidden  love,  or  the  charms  of  a  friendship 
made  certain  by  a  long-  series  of  adversity.  The  nobler  passions 
are  not  extinguished  by  death,  in  the  hearts  of  the  just;  and  when 
ever  they  are  found,  even  on  earth,  respire  something  of  the 
grandeur  and  eternity  of  the  supreme  intelligence. 

(5)  u  That  vague  wondrous  lore 

Cl  But  seldom  told  to  mortals  ;  arts  on  gems 

Inscribed  that  still  exist ;  but  hidden  so, 

From  fear  of  those  who  wrote,  that  diadems 

Have  passed  fr&m  brows  that  vainly  ached  to  know" 

It  is  said  to  have  been  believed  by  the  Egyptians  that  many 
wonderful  secrets  were  engraved  by  one  of  the  Mercuries,  on  tablets 
of  emerald,  which  still  remain  hidden  in  some  part  of  their 
country. 

Being  assisted  by  a  friend  in  looking  over  the  first  part  of 
Snicker's  "  Historia  Critica  Philosophae  "  for  something  concern 
ing  these  tablets  of  emerald,  we  were  soon  disappointed  by  the 
following  passage : — 

"Non  detenibimus  itaque  lectorem  fabularum  de  Mercuric 
Graecarum  atque  Latinarum  recitatione,  quas  qui  legere  vult,  apud 
I, ilium  Gyraldum  (Lugd.  Bat.  1698.  4.)  vel  Natalem  Comitem 
(Mythol.  L.  V.  c.  5.  p.  m.  439)  aliosque  mythologiae  veteris  in- 
terpretes  abunde  inveniet  nnde  srtem  extinguat." — To  those 
authors,  therefore,  the  reader  is  referred. 

Some  of  the  fathers  (Tertullian  in  particular)  supposed  that  all 
impious  and  daring  sciences,  such  as  Magic  and  Alchemy,  came  to- 
the  heathen  nations  through  the  medium  of  fallen  angels,  who, 
during  the  violence  of  their  love  for  particular  women,  would  some 
times  reveal  to  them  doctrines  and  truths  which  could  never  other 
wise  have  been  conceived  by  their  poets  and  philosophers. 

Petrarch,  in  a  letter  to  Robert,  King  of  Naples,  says — "  The 
expectation  which  our  faith  presents  was  unknown  to  the  heathen? 


NOTES   TO   CANTO   THE   THIRD.  151 

philosophers ;  but  they  felt  that  the  soul  was  not  to  die."  Pherecydes 
was  the  first  among  them  who  openly  maintained  it.  Pherecydes 
most  probably  conceived  his  belief  from  old  and  vague  traditions, 
confirmed  by  his  own  feelings  and  experience. 

"  Epicurus,"  continues  Petrarch,  "  was  the  only  one  who  denied 
it.  From  Pherecydes  it  passed  to  Pythagoras,  from  Pythagoras  to 
Socrates,  from  Socrates  to  Plato ;  and  Cicero  established  this 
doctrine  in  his  discourses  on  friendship,  old  age,  and  other  parts  of 
his  works." 

The  lives  of  all  these  philosophers,  that  of  Socrates  in  particular, 
rather  confirm  than  disprove  the  belief  of  the  fathers  respecting 
communications  from  a  higher  order  of  beings. 

(6)  "  Though  like  thin  shades  or  air,  they  mock  dull  mortals''  sight." 

The  discoveries  effected  by  chemistry  and  natural  philosophy, 
although  they  make  apparent  the  fallacy  of  many  superstitions,  do 
not  in  the  least  disprove  the  existence  of  spiritual  creatures.  After 
hearing  explained  the  nature  of  light  and  heat,  and  observing  the 
effects  produced  by  many  common  experiments,  it  is  not  difficult  to 
conceive  of  beings,  powerful,  beautiful,  and  exquisitely  organized  ; 
yet  of  a  material  so  refined  and  subtle,  as  easily  to  elude  the  most 
perfect  animal  perception. 

(7)  "  The  palace  of  the  Gnome  Tahathyam" 

In  respect  to  the  birth  of  Tahathyam  and  his  court,  I  have 
followed  the  opinion  of  Tertullian  and  others.  The  beings,  how 
ever,  which  are  described  in  the  text,  can  only  be  called  Gnomes, 
from  their  residence  in  the  earth,  and  their  knowledge  of  minera 
logy  and  gems.  The 

"  Four  dusky  spirits,  by  a  secret  art, 
Taught  by  a  father  thoughtful  of  his  wants ;" 

which  "  Tahathyam  kept"  in  his  immediate  service,  might  hare 
answered  the  description  of  the  Comte  de  Gabalis. 


152  NOTES   TO   CANTO   THE   THIRD. 

"  La  terre  est  remplie  presque  jusqu'  au  centre  de  gnomes,  gens 
de  petites  statures,  gardiens  des  tresors,  des  mineraux,  et  des 
pierreries.  Ceux  ci  sont  ingenieux,  'amis  de  Phomme  et  faciles  a 
commander.  Les  gnomides,  leurs  femmes,  sont  petites  mais  fort 
agreables  et  leur  habit  et  fort  curieux." 

"  Les  gnomes  et  les  sylphes  sont  mortels,  mais  cessent  d'etre 
mortel  du  moment  qu'ils  epousent  une  de  nos  filles." 

"  De  la  naquit  Ferreur  des  premiers  siecles,  de  Tertulien,  du 
martyr  Justin,  de  Lactance,  de  Cyprien,  de  Clement  d'Alexandrie, 
d'Anathagore  philosophe  Chetien,  et  generalement  de  tous  les 
ecrivains  de  ce  terns  la.  Us  avoient  apprisque  ces  demi-hommes 
elementaires  avoient  recherche  le  commerce  des  filles ;  et  Us  out 
imagine  que  la  chute  des  anges  n'ttoit  venue  que  de  Vamour  dont 
ils  s'etoient  laisses  toucher  pour  les  femmes.  Quelques  gnomes 
desireux  de  devinir  immortels  avoient  voulu  gaguer  les  bonnes 
graces  de  nos  filles,  et  leur  avoient  apportees  des  pierreries  dont 
ils  sont  gardiens  naturels :  et  ces  auteurs  ont  cru  s'appuyans  sur 
le  livre  d'Enoch  mal-entendu,  que  c'etoient  des  pieges  qne  les 
anges  amoureux  avoient  prepares  pour  mieux  en  assurer  la  con- 
quite." — Comte  de  Gabalis. 

Though  not  immediately  relative  to  the  subject,  I  cannot  forbear 
inserting  the  following  curious  account  of  Sylphs  : — 

"  L'air  est  pleine  d'une  innombrable  multitude  de  peuple  de 
figure  humaine,  un  peu  fiers  en  aparence ;  mais  dociles  en  effet : 
officieux  aux  sages,  et  ennemies  des  sots  et  des  ignorans.  Leurs 
femmes  et  leurs  filles  sont  des  beautes  males  telles  qu'on  depcint 
les  amazones." — Le  meme. 

(8)  "  Had  lightly  left  his  pure  and  blissful  home, 
To  taste  the  blandishments  of  mortal  love." 

In  the  book  of  Enoch,  two  hundred  or  more  of  such  angels  as 
Cephroniel  are  said  to  have  descended  on  Mount  Hermon,  for  the 
purpose  of  visiting  women  of  whose  beauty  they  had  become  ena- 


NOTES   TO    CANTO   THE   THIRD.  15& 

moured.  Tertullian  regards  this  book  as  of  sacred  authority,  as 
will  be  seen  in  the  article,  "  De  Habitu  Muliebri ;"  but  some  of  the 
other  fathers  are  disinclined  to  believe  it. 

(9)  «  The  reptiles,  in  their  fearful  beauty,  drew 
As  if  from  love,  like  steeds  of  Araby  ; — 
Like  blood  of  lady's  lip  their  scarlet  hue" 

The  docility,  and  even  affection  of  the  serpent,  is  sufficiently 
known  and  attested.  Some  chemical  arts  might  have  been  used, 
to  give  the  scales  of  these  their  scarlet  colour,  surrounded  as  they 
were  by  beings  of  such  exquisite  skill.  Little  serpents,  however, 
of  a  bright  glossy  scarlet,  are  not  uncommon  in  America,  and  (if 
the  Count  de  Buffon,  and  his  admirer  and  frequent  translator,  Dr 
Goldsmith,  are  to  be  relied  on)  the  snake,  as  long  as  it  lives,  con 
tinues  to  increase,  having  no  fixed  dimensions  allotted  to  it,  like 
other  animals.  These  most  pleasing  writers  (if  I  am  not  much 
mistaken)  believe  also  that  no  particular  bound  is  set  to  its  vita 
lity ;  and  that  it  is  capable  of  retaining  life  and  youth  so  long  as  it 
can  be  preserved  from  accidents. 

The  following  account  of  the  celebrated  exploit  of  Prometheus, 
which  M.  de  Lentier  puts  into  the  mouth  of  an  old  Grecian  or 
Assyrian  mariner,  may  not  be  unentertaining. 

Prometheus  having  made  a  statue  of  clay,  mixed  with  it  levin  of 
gall,  flesh  of  the  aspic,  and  foam  of  the  lion.  But  the  figure  was 
still  an  insensible  mass :  Prometheus  stole  fire  from  the  sun,  and 
man  was  animated.  Scarcely  had  he  drawn  a  breath  ere  he  com 
plained  to  the  gods  of  the  fatal  gift  of  life :  pain  was  his  first  sen 
sation.  Jupiter,  to  console  him  and  mitigate  his  sufferings,  gave 
him  a  drug  that  had  the  virtue  of  restoring  youth.  The  man  was 
delighted  with  the  present,  and  placed  it  on  an  ass,  for  the  purpose 
of  conveying  it  to  his  own  abode. 

The  beast,  tormented  with  thirst,  stopped  on  his  way  at  a  foun 
tain  guarded  by  a  serpent.  The  wicked  reptile  would  not  suffer 
him  to  drink,  except  on  condition  that  the  drug  should,  meanwhile, 
be  left  in  its  care.  The  ass  consented,  and  the  serpent  kept  the 


154  NOTES  TO   CANTO   THE   THIRD. 

drug.     From  that  time  the  serpent  has  had  power  to  renew  its 
youth,  while  poor  human  beings  grow  old  without  remedy. 

(10)  "Bright  Ramaour  followed  on,  in  order  meet, 
Then  Nahalcoul  aad  Zotzaraven,  best 
Beloved,  save  Rouamasak,  of  perfume  sweet ; 
Then  Talhazak  and  Marmorak." 

These  names  are  formed  from  Hebraic  words,  expressive  of  the 
various  qualities  and  employments  of  the  beings  who  bear  them. 

Aishalat  signifies  fire-control ;  Psaamayim,  black-water ;  Ra 
maour,  light-direct ;  Nahalcoul,  guide-sound ;  Zotzaraven,  shape- 
spar;  Rouamasak,  mingle-air;  Talhazak,  dew-congeal;  Marmorak, 
(partly  Greek)  marble-stain. 

Nothing  can  be  more  barbarous  than  Hebrew  words,  as  they  are 
pronounced  in  English.  They  are,  however,  much  softer  on  the  lips 
of  Oriental  speakers,  or  even  those  of  the  south  of  Europe.  Some 
of  the  dialects  of  the  Aborigines  of  America,  though  they  look  so 
repulsively,  as  we  get  them  on  paper,  are  soft  as  the  murmur  of 
the  forest,  when  spoken  by  forest  orators. 

(11)  «  Where  is  the  bright  Cephroniel  ?    Spirit,  tell 
But  how  he  fares" 

Tahathyam  has  never  seen  his  father  since  first  established  in 
his  submarine  kingdom,  and  knows  not  whether  he  has  been  re 
ceived  again  into  heaven,  or  remains  still  wandering  about  in  a 
state  of  punishment.  Tlie  crimes  of  those  angels  made  guilty  only 
by  their  intercourse  with  mortals,  were  supposed  to  have  been 
punished  less  severely,  than  those  of  the  subordinates  of  the  prince 
of  Ambition. 

(12)  "  That  baffling,  maddening,  fascinating  art, 
Half  told  by  Sprite  most  mischievous,  that  he 
Might  laugh  to  see  men  toil,  then  not  impart." 

Some  alchymists  still  exist,  who  have  not  laid  aside  the  hope  of 
success  in  their  labours. 


KOTES   TO  CANTO   THE   THIRD.  155 

In  Voltaire's  «  Life  of  Charles  XII,"  is  related  the  following 
circumstance : — "  A  certain  Livonian,  who  was  an  officer  in  the 
Saxon  army,  and  named  Paikel,  was  made  prisoner  by  the  troops 
of  Charles,  and  condemned  to  be  decapitated  at  Stockholm.  Before 
the  execution  of  his  sentence  he  found  means  to  inform  the  senate 
that  he  was  in  possession  of  the  secret  of  making  gold,  which,  on 
condition  of  pardon,  he  would  communicate  to  the  King.  The 
experiment  was  made  in  prison,  in  presence  of  Colonel  Hamilton 
and  the  magistrates  of  the  city ;  the  gold  found  in  the  crucible, 
after  the  experiment,  was  carried  to  the  mint  at  Stockholm,  and  a 
judicial  report  made  to  the  senate,  which  appeared  so  important, 
that  the  Queen-mother  ordered  the  execution  to  be  suspended 
until  the  King  could  be  informed  of  so  singular  an  event,  and 
transmit  his  orders  to  Stockholm.  Charles  answered,  that  he  had 
refused  the  pardon  of  the  criminal  to  his  relations,  and  that  he 
would  never  grant  to  interest  what  he  had  refused  to  friendship. 

After  viewing  the  fable  of  Midas,  in  connection  with  the  belief  of 
the  fathers,  it  is  not  difficult  to  imagine  that  the  secret  of  alchymy 
was  actually  imparted  to  that  King  by  a  fallen  angel,  who  caused 
himself  to  be  adored  as  the  god  Bacchus ;  and  the  disastrous  con 
sequences  that  must  necessarily  ensue,  provided  such  an  art  could 
be  obtained,  are  forcibly  depicted  in  the  sufferings  of  Midas. 

Gold,  like  everything  else  not  absolutely  necessary  to  existence, 
would  cease  to  be  valued  as  soon  as  it  became  plenty ;  but  nothing 
would,  perhaps,  occasion  more  dreadful  immediate  misery,  than  a 
possibility  of  procuring  it  easily. 

The  secret  of  alchyray,  even  if  it  could  be  discovered,  would 
bring  with  it  nothing  delightful ;  but  it  is  pleasant  to  imagine  a 
glimpse  of  possibility  of  discovering,  sooner  or  later,  the  means  of 
preserving  mortal  life  beyond  its  present  imperfect  term. 

It  has  always  seemed  to  me  (whether  any  other  person  has 
thought  the  same,  I  know  not)  that  something  in  favour  of  this 
possibility  may  be  inferred  from  a  passage  in  the  Mosaic  account 
of  the  fall.  The  first  pair  are  driven  from  the  garden,  lest,  having 


156  NOTES    TO    CANTO   THE   THIRD. 

tasted  the  tree  of  knowledge,  they  might  pluck,  also,  of  the  tree  of 
life,  and  live  for  ever.  Is  this  an  allegory ;  or  to  what  does  the 
passage  relate  ? 

u  The  animals  (says  Father  Jerom  Dandini,  in  his  '  Voyage  to 
Mount  Libanus,)  eat  a  certain  herb,  which  causes  their  teeth  to 
change  to  a  golden  colour."  This  herb  Father  Jerom  thinks  must 
proceed  from  mines  under  Mount  Ida.  And  Niebuhr  mentions 
that  the  Eastern  alchymists  fancy  their  success  would  be  certain, 
provided  they  could  find  out  the  herb  which  tinges  the  colour  of 
the  flesh  of  the  sheep  that  eat  it. 

(13)  "  Inform  of  canopy  was  seen  to  fall 
The  stony  tapestry" 

There  now  exists,  either  in  Virginia  or  some  of  the  neighbouring 
country  (I  have  no  reference  and  do  not  recollect  this  particular), 
a  singularly  beautiful  grotto,  called,  by  those  who  live  around  it, 
Wyer's  Cave.  It  contains  several  apartments,  in  some  of  which 
the  concretions  are  said  by  those  who  have  seen  them  to  be  spread 
over  the  sides  and  roof  in  the  form  of  curtains  and  festoons.  One 
of  the  chambers  is  extremely  remarkable.  It  is  commonly  called 
the  "  Lady's  Drawing-room  ;"  arid  on  one  side  of  it  a  crystalline 
projection  is  shown,  which  rings,  at  the  touch,  in  such  a  manner 
that  the  person  whose  description  I  saw,  fancied  a  skilful  hand 
might  draw  music  from  it.  Many  curious  and  extensive  caverns 
are  found  in  the  island  of  Cuba.  One  near  the  bay  of  Matanzas  is 
often  visited  by  strangers,  but  nobody  has  ventured  to  penetrate 
far.  I  visited  one  twenty  miles  distant  from  this,  and  not  far  from 
the  estate  San  Patricio,  which  contained  three  apartments  and  a 
reservoir  of  water ;  being  a  great  deal  above  the  surface  of  the 
earth,  on  the  side  of  a  pleasant  hill,  it  would  not,  in  that  climate, 
have  been  very  uncomfortable  as  a  residence.  Some  of  the  concre 
tions  had  attained  the  shape  of  large  and  perfect  columns  ;  others 
were  in  the  form  of  two  acute  pyramids  or  obelisks,  one  depending 
from  the  roof  and  the  other  rising  from  the  floor.  These  were  of 


NOTES   TO   CANTO   THE   THIRD.  157 

a  whitish  colour ;  but  though  evening  came  on  and  we  had  two  or 
three  tapers,  I  could  see  nothing  transparent  or  sparkling.  This 
grotto  is  on  either  the  Cafetal  Teresa  or  the  one  adjoining  it ; 
the  boundaries  of  both  were  covered  with  wood.  There  is  another, 
deeper  in  the  earth,  about  six  or  seven  English  miles  from  Matan- 
zas,  on  the  estate  of  Octavius  Mitchell,  Esq.  from  which  I  was 
shown  specimens  of  spar  of  the  size  and  shape  of  a  common  quill, 
and  clear  like  glass.  Some  beautiful  concretions,  or  perhaps  petri 
factions  were  also  found  there,  which  were  said  to  bear  some 
resemblance  to  groups  of  sculpture.  These  I  did  not  see,  but  one 
was  taken  out  and  named  the  "  Twins  of  Latona." 


CANTO  THE  FOURTH. 


THE  STORM. 


ARGUMENT. 


The  gloom  that  precedes  a  tempest  near  Carthage.— ^ophiel  and 
Phraerion  returning  from  the  palace  of  Gnomes. — Zophiel  loses  the 
piece  of  spar  which  contains  his  invaluable  elixir,  and  narrowly 
escapes  being  sucked  down  by  a  whirlpool. — Zophiel  and  Phraerion 
emerge  from  the  sea,  and  rest  a  moment  in  the  deserts  nearest 
Carthage  ;  they  attempt  to  pursue  their  course  toward  Media. — The 
storm  increases. — Zophiel  meets  a  spirit  who  detains  and  reproaches 
him.— Phraerion  seeks  shelter.  Zophiel  and  Phraerion  return  to 
Media. 


CANTO  THE  FOURTH. 


THE     STORM. 


I. 
OVER  that  coast  whither  wrong'd  Dido  fled 

From  brother's  murderous  hand,  low  vapours  brood, 
But  all  is  hush'd ;  and  reigns  a  calm  as  dread 

As  that  fell  Roman's  who,  like  wolf  pursued,* 


In  aftertimes  upon  a  fragment  sate 

Of  ruined  Carthage,  his  fierce  eye  at  rest, 

While  hungry,  cold,  and  spent,  he  mock'd  at  fate, 

And  fed  on  the  revenge  deep  smouldering  in  his  breast.  (1) 

II. 
But  now,  that  city's  turrets  frown  on  high ; 

And  from  her  distant  streets  is  heard  the  shriek 
Of  frantic  mothers,  utter'd  as  they  fly 
From  where  with  children's  blood  their  guilty  altars 
reek.  (2) 

*  Caius  Marius. 


162  CANTO   THE   FOURTH. 

III. 
But  far,  far  off,  upon  the  sea's  expanse, 

The  very  silence  has  a  shriek  of  fear ;  (3) 
And,  'cross  the  sight,  thick  shadows  seem  to  glance ; 

And  sounds  like  laughter  ring,  yet  leave  the  ear 


In  racking  doubt  if  it  has  heard  such  peal, 

Or  if  'twas  but  affrighted  fancy  spoke  : 
Past  that  suspense,  and,  lesser  pain  to  feel, 

As  giant  rends  his  chains  the  bursting  tempest  woke. 

IV. 

Alas  !  for  the  poor  pilot  at  his  prow, 

Far  from  the  haven  !  Will  his  Neptune  save  ? 

The  muse  no  longer  hears  his  frantic  vow, 

But  follows  her  fair  Sprites  still  deep  beneath  the  wave. 

v. 

Soon  through  the  cavern,  the  receding  light 
Refused  its  beam  ;  Zophiel,  with  toil  severe, 

But  bliss  in  view,  through  the  thrice  murky  night, 
Sped  swiftly  on.     A  treasure  now  more  dear 


He  had  to  guard  than  boldest  hope  had  dared 
To  breathe  for  years  ;  but  rougher  grew  the  way  ; 

And  soft  Phraerion,  shrinking  back  and  scared 

At  every  whirling  depth,   wept  for  his  flowers  and 
day. 


THE   STORM.  163 


Shivered,  and  pained,  and  shrieking,  as  the  waves 
Wildly  impel  them  'gainst  the  jutting  rocks  ; 

Not  all  the  care  and  strength  of  Zophiel  saves 
His  tender  guide  from  half  the  wildering  shocks 


He  bore.    The  calm,  which  favoured  their  descent, 
And  bade  them  look  upon  their  task  as  o'er, 

Was  past ;  and  now  the  inmost  earth  seem'd  rent 
W'ith  such  fierce  storms  as  never  raged  before. 

VI. 

Of  a  long  mortal  life  had  the  whole  pain 

Essenced  in  one  consummate  pang  been  borne, 

Known,  and  survived  ;  it  still  would  be  in  vain 

To  try  to  paint  the  pains  felt  by  these  Sprites  forlorn. 

VII. 
The  power  that  made,  intending  them  for  bliss, 

And  gave  their  thrilling  organs  but  to  bless, 
Had  they  been  form'd  for  such  a  world  as  this, 

Had  kindly  dulPd  their  powers  and  made  their  tortures 
less. 

VIII. 
The  precious  drop  closed  in  its  hollow  spar, 

Between  his  lips  Zophiel  in  triumph  bore. 
Now,  earth  and  sea  seem  shaken !  Dashed  afar 

He  feels  it  part ; — 'tis  dropt ; — the  waters  roar. 


164  CANTO   THE   FOURTH. 

IX. 

He  sees  it  in  a  sable  vortex  whirling, 
Formed  by  a  cavern  vast,  that  'neath  the  sea, 

Sucks  the  fierce  torrent  in ;  and  madly  furling 

His  wings  would  plunge ;  one  moment  more  and  he 

Suck'd  down,  in  earth's  dark  womb  must  wait  eternity. 

X. 

"  Pursue  no  farther  !  stop  !  alas  !  for  me, 
If  not  thyself!"     Phraerion's  shrieks  accost 

Him  thus  "  Who,  Zophiel,  shall  protect  for  thee 
The  maid  thou  lov'st  ?    Hear !  stop  !  or  all  are  lost/' 

XI. 

The  verge,  the  verge  is  near.     Must  such  a  state, 
Seraph,  be  thine  ?     No  !  sank  the  spar  within, 

But  the  shrill  warning  reached  him  through  the  din 
Of  waves :  back,  back,  he  struggles,  ere  too  late, 
And  the  whole  horror  of  the  avoided  fate 

Shot  through  his  soul.     The  wages  of  his  sin 
He  felt,  for  once,  were  light,  and  clasp'd  his  shrieking 
mate, 

XII. 
Who  thus  entreats,  "  Up  !  to  earth's  pleasant  fields  ! 

Oh,  Zophiel,  all  this  torture's  for  thy  pleasure !" 
Twined  in  his  arms,  the  baffled  Seraph  yields, 

And  flies  the  hungry  depth  that  gorged  his  dearest 
treasure. 


THE    STORM.  165 

XIII. 
What  added  torment — gained  ;  then  snatched  away — 

Prest  to  his  heart — and  then,  to  feel  it  riven 
From  heart  and  hand,  while  bearing  it  to  day 

With  joy  complete  as  if  recalled  to  heaven ! 

XIV. 
That  which,  to  own  was  perfect  transport,  lost ; 

Yet  still  (to  urge  a  dangerous  course  contending 
And  the  fierce  passions  which  his  bosom  crost 

For  pity,  or  some  other  hope,  suspending;) 


Resisting  all,  he  forced  a  desperate  way ; 

His  gentle  phere,  with  plaints  no  longer  vain, 
Clung  closer  to  his  neck ;  nor  ceased  to  pray 

To  be  restored  to  sun  and  flowers  again. 

XV. 

Thus  all  entwined  they  rose  again  to  air, 

Near  Lybia's  coast.    Black  clouds,  in  mass  deform, 

Were  frowning ;  yet  a  moment's  calm  was  there, 
As  it  had  stopp'd  to  breathe  awhile  the  storm. 

XVI. 
Their  white  feet  pressed  the  desert  sod ;  they  shook 

From  their  bright  locks  the  briny  drops ;  nor  stayed 
Zophiel  on  ills,  present  or  past,  to  look  ; 

For,  weary  as  he  was,  his  lonely  maid 


166  CANTO   THE   FOURTH. 


Came  to  his  ardent  soul  in  all  her  charms ; 

Unguarded  she,  what  being  might  molest 
Even  now  ?  his  chill'd  and  wounded  substance  warms 

But  at  the  thought ;  the  while  he  thus  addrest 


The  shivering  Sprite  of  flowers :  fi  We  must  not  stay ; 

All  is  but  desolation  here,  and  gloom  : 
Up  !  let  us  through  the  air,  nor  more  delay ; 
Nay,  droop  not  now  ;  a  little  more  essay, 

I'll  bear  thee  forward  to  thy  bower  of  bloom, 


"  And  on  thy  roses  lay  thee  down  to  rest. 

Come  through  the  desert !  banquet  on  thy  store 
Of  dews  and  sweets.     Come,  warm  thee  at  my  breast ! 

On  !  through  the  air,  nor  think  of  danger  more. 

XVII. 
"  As  grateful  for  the  service  thou  hast  done 

I  live,  though  lost  the  object  of  our  task, 
As  if  were  still  possessed  the  treasure  won  ; 

And  all  thou  wouldst  of  Zophiel,  freely  ask. 

XVIII. 
"  The  Gnome,  the  secret  path>  the  draught  divine, 

I  know  :  Tahathyam  sighs,  beneath  the  wave, 
For  mortal  bride;  valour  and  skill  are  mine ; 

He  may  again  bestow  what  once  he  gave." 


THE    STORM.  167 

XIX. 

Thus,  Zophiel,  renovated,  though  the  air 

Was  thick  and  dull,  with  just  enough  of  hope 

To  save  him  from  the  stupor  of  despair, 

Too  much  disdain'd  the  pains  he  felt,  to  droop. 

XX. 

But  soft  Phraerion,  smarting  from  his  toil, 

To  buffet  not  a  tempest  was  in  plight; 
And  Egla's  lover  saw  him  shrink,  recoil, 

And  beg  some  nearer  shelter  for  the  night ; 

For  now  the  tempest,  bursting  in  its  might, 


Raged  fiercely  round,  and  made  him  fain  to  rest 
In  cave  or  tomb.     But  Zophiel  gently  caught  him, 

Sustained  him  firmly  at  his  fearless  breast, 
And  twixt  Euphrates  and  the  Tigris  brought  him. 

XXI. 

Then  paused  a  moment  o'er  a  desert  drear, 
Until  the  thunder  clouds  around  him  burst ; 

His  flights  renewed,  and  wished  for  Media  near ; 
But  stronger  grows  the  gale :  what  Sprites  accurst 


Ride  on  the  tempest  ?  Warring  elements 
Might  not  alone  such  ardent  course  impede ; 

The  wretched  Spirit  from  his  speed  relents 

With  sense  like  mortal  bosoms  when  they  bleed. 


168  CANTO   THE   FOURTH. 

XXII. 
Loud  and  more  loud  the  blast ;  in  mingled  gyre, 

Flew  leaves  and  stones ;  and  with  a  deafening  crash 
Fell  the  uprooted  trees ;  heaven  seemed  on  fire — 

Not,  as  'tis  wont,  with  intermitting  flash,  (5) 


But,  like  an  ocean  all  of  liquid  flame, 

The  whole  broad  arch  gave  one  continuous  glare, 
While  through  the  red  light  from  their  prowlings  came, 

The  frighted  beasts,  and  ran,  but  could  not  find  a 
lair. 

XXIII. 
"  Rest,  Zophiel,  rest ! "  Phraerion  cries :  "  the  surge 

Was  lesser  pain ;  I  cannot  bear  it  more  ! 
Beaten  in  seas  so  long  we  but  emerge 

To  meet  a  fiercer  conflict  on  the  shore ! " 

XXIV. 

Then  Zophiel :  "  There's  a  little  grot  on  high, 
The  wild  doves  nestle  there  :  it  is  secure ; 

To  Ecbatane,  but  for  an  hour,  Til  fly, 
And  come  for  thee  at  morn  :  no  more  endure. 

XXV. 

"  Nay — wilt  not  leave  me  ?  then  I'll  bear  thee  through 
As  lately  through  the  whirling  floods  I  bore." 

Still  closer  clinging,  to  his  bosom  grew 
The  tender  sprite ;  "  then  bear — I  can  no  more." 


THE    STORM.  169 

XXVI. 

He  said,  and  came  a  shock,  as  if  the  earth 

Crash'd  'gainst  some  other  planet ;  shivered  brands 

Whirl  round  their  heads  ;  and  (shame  upon  their  birth  !) 
Both  Sprites  lay  mazed  and  prostrate  on  the  sands. 

XXVII. 
The  delicate  Phraerion  sought  a  cave 

Low  browed ;  and  crouching  down  mid  trailing  snakes, 
And  slimy  worms  (things  that  would  hide  to  save 

Their  loathsome  lives)  hearkens  the  roar  and  quakes. 

XXVIII. 
But  Zophiel,  stung  with  shame,  and  in  a  mood 

Too  fierce  for  fear,  uprose;  yet  ere  for  flight 
Served  his  torn  wings,  a  form  before  him  stood 

In  gloomy  majesty.     Like  starless  night 


A  sable  mantle  fell  in  cloudy  fold  (6) 
From  its  stupendous  breast ;  and  as  it  trod 

The  pale  and  lurid  light,  at  distance  rolled 
Before  its  princely  feet  receding  on  the  sod. 

XXIX. 

'Twas  still  as  death  ;  save  that  the  thunder  spoke 
In  mutterings  low  and  far ;  a  look  severe 

Seemed  as  preluding  speech ;  but  Zophiel  broke 
The  silence  first :  "  Why,  Spirit,  art  thou  here  ?  " 


170  CANTO   THE   FOURTH. 

XXX. 

It  waved  its  hand,  and  instantaneous  came 
A  hissing  bolt  with  new  impetus  back  ; 

Darts  round  a  group  of  verdant  palms  the  flame ; 
That  being  pointed  to  them,  blasted  black. 

XXXI, 

"  Oh  !  source  of  all  my  guilt !  at  such  an  hour," 
(The  mortal-lover  said)  "  thine  answer  there 

I  need  not  read  :  too  well  I  know  thy  power 
In  all  I've  felt  and  feel.     But  has  despair, 


"  Or  grief,  or  torment,  e'er  made  Zophiel  bow  ? 

Declare  me  that,  nor  spend  thine  arts  in  vain 
To  torture  more :  if,  like  a  miscreant,  now 

I  bend  to  thee,  'tis  not  for  dread  of  pain ; 


"  That  I  can  bear :  yet,  bid  thy  legions  cease 
Their  strife.     Oh  !  spare  me  this  resistance  rude 

But  for  an  hour  !  let  me  but  on  in  peace  ; 
So  shall  I  taste  the  joy  of  gratitude, 


"  Even  to  thee."—"  The  joy?"  then  first  with  scorn 
Replied  that  sombre  being :  "  dream'st  thou  still 

Of  joy?  a  thing  accursed,  demean'd,  forlorn, 

As  thou  art  ?     Is't  for  joy  thou  mock'st  my  will  ? 


THE    STORM.  171 


"  Canst  thou  taste  pleasure?  banish'd,  crush'd,debased.JJ- 

"  I  can,  betrayer !  dost  thou  envy  me  ? 
But  leave  me  to  my  wrongs,  and  I  can  taste 

Ev'n  yet  of  heaven,  spite  of  my  fall  and  thee. 

XXXII. 

"  But  that  affects  not  thee  :  thine  insults  spare 
But  for  an  hour ;  leave  me  to  go  at  will 

Only  till  morn,  and  I  will  back  and  bear 

Whate'er  thou  wilt.     What  dost  obstruct  me  still  ? 


"  Thine  armies  dim,  and  shrouded  in  the  storm 
Then  I  must  meet ;  and  weary  thus,  and  torn, 

Essay  the  force  of  an  immortal  arm, 
Lone  as  I  am,  until  another  morn 


"  Shall  shame  both  them  and  thee  to  thine  abode. 

There,  on  the  steam  of  human  heart-blood  spilt  (7) 
By  priest  or  murderer,  make  repast ;  or  brood 

Over  the  vile  creations  of  thy  guilt.  (8) 

XXXIII. 
"  Waste  thy  life-giving  power  on  reptiles  foul ;  (9) 

Slow,  slimy  worms,  and  poisonous  snakes;  then  watch, 
Like  the  poor  brutes  that,  here,  for  hunger  prowl, 

To  mar  the  beauty  that  thou  canst  not  match  !  " 


172  CANTO   THE   FOURTH. 

XXXIV. 

Thus  he :  the  other  folded  o'er  its  breast 

Its  arms,  and  stood  as  cold  and  firm  the  while. 

As  if  no  passion  stirr'd;  save  that  expressed 
Its  pale,  pale  lip,  a  faint  ferocious  smile. 

XXXV. 

While,  blent  with  winds,  ten  thousand  agents  wage  (10) 

Anew  the  strife,  and  Zophiel,  fain  to  fly, 
But  foil'd,  gave  up  to  unavailing  rage, 

And  strove,  and  toil'd,  and  strove,  but  could  not  mount 
on  high. 

XXXVI. 
Then  thus  the  torturer:  "  Hie  thee  to  the  bed 

Of  her  thou  lov'st ;  pursue  thy  dear  design ; 
Go  dew  the  golden  ringlets  of  her  head  ! 

Thou  wait'st  not,  sure,  for  any  power  of  mine. 

XXXVII. 

"  Yet  better  were  the  duties,  Spirit  dull, 
Of  thine  allegiance !     Win  her  o'er  to  me, 

Take  all  thou  canst, — a  pleasure  brief  but  full. 
Vain  dreamer,  if  not  mine,  she's  lost  to  thee.:> 

XXXVIII. 

"  Wilt  thou  then  hurt  her  ?     Why  am  I  detain'd  ? 

Oh,  strength !  once  serving  'gainst  the  powers  above, 
Where  art  thou  now  ?  "     Thus  Zophiel ;  and  he  strain'd 

His  wounded  wings  to  mount,  but  could  not  move. 


THE   STORM.  173 

XXXIX. 

Then  thus  the  scorner :  "  Nay,  be  calm !  Pll  still 
The  storm  for  thee  :  hear  !  it  recedes — 'tis  ended. 

Yet,  if  thou  dream'st  success  awaits  thee,  ill 
Dost  thou  conceive  of  boundless  power  offended. 

XL. 

"  Zophiel,  bland  sprite,  sublime  intelligence, 
Once  chosen  for  my  friend  and  worthy  me ; 

Not  so  wouldst  thou  have  labour'd  to  be  hence, 
Had  my  emprise  been  crowned  with  victory. 

XLI. 

"  When  I  was  bright  in  heaven,  thy  seraph  eyes 
Sought  only  mine.     But  he  who  every  power 

Beside,  while  hope  allured  him,  could  despise, 
Changed  and  forsook  me,  in  misfortune's  hour." 

XLII. 

st  Changed  and  forsook  thee  ?  this  from  thee  to  me  ? 

Once  noble  Spirit !     Oh !  had  not  too  much 
My  o'erfond  heart  adored  thy  fallacy, 

I  had  not,  now,  been  here  to  bear  thy  keen  reproach ;" 

XLIII. 
Zophiel  replied :  "  Fallen,  wretched,  and  debased, 

E'en  to  thy  scornful  words  extent,  my  doom 
Too  well  I  know,  and  for  what  cause  displaced ; 

But  not  from  thee  should  the  remembrance  come. 


174  CANTO   THE   FOURTH. 

XLIV. 
"  Forsook  thee  in  misfortune  ?  at  thy  side 

I  closer  fought  as  peril  thicken'd  round. 
Watched  o'er  thee  fallen :  the  light  of  heaven  denied, 

But  proved  my  love  more  fervent  and  profound. 

XLV. 
"  Prone  as  thou  wert,  had  I  been  mortal-born, 

And  own'd  as  many  lives  as  leaves  there  be, 
From  all  Hyrcania  by  this  tempest  torn 

I  had  lost  them,  one  by  one,  and  given  the  last  for  thee. 

XLVI. 
"  Pain  had  a  joy,  for  suffering  could  but  wring 

Love  from  my  soul,  to  gild  the  murky  air 
Of  our  first  rude  retreat ;  while  I,  fond  thing  ! 

Still  thought  thee  true  and  smiled  upon  despair. 

XLVII. 
"  Oh  !  had  thy  plighted  pact  of  faith  been  kept, 

Still  unaccomplished  were  the  curse  of  sin  j 
Mid  all  the  woes  thy  ruin'd  followers  wept, 

Had  friendship  lingered,  hell  could  not  have  been. 

XLVIII. 
"  But  when,  to  make  me  thy  first  minister 

Came  the  proposal ;  when  the  purpose  burst 
Forth  from  its  treacherous  den  disclosed  and  bare, 

Then  first  I  felt  alone,  and  knew  myself  accurst. 


THE    STORM.  175 


"  Though  the  first  seraph  form'd,  how  could  I  tell  (11) 
The  ways  of  guile  ?     What  marvel  I  believed, 

When  cold  ambition  mimick'd  love  so  well, 

That  half  the  sons  of  heaven  looked  on  deceived  ? 

XLIX. 
"  Ambition  thine;  to  me  the  Eternal  gave 

So  much  of  love  his  kind  design  was  crost : 
Held  to  thy  heart  I  thought  thee  good  as  brave, 

Nor  realized  my  guilt  till  all  was  lost. 

L. 
"  Now,  writhing  at  my  utmost  need,  how  vain 

Are  ZophiePs  tears  and  prayers !  Alas !  heaven-born, 
Of  all  heaven's  virtues,  doth  not  one  remain  ? 

Pity  me  once,  and  let  me  now  begone !" 

LI. 
"  Go ! "  said  the  cold  detainer,  with  a  smile 

That  heighten'd  cruelty  :  "  yet  know,  from  me, 
Thy  foolish  hopes  but  lure  thee  on  awhile 

To  wake  thy  sense  to  keener  misery." 

LII. 

"  Oh  !  skill'd  to  torment  1  spare  me,  spare  me,  now  ! " 
Chill'd  by  a  dread  foreboding,  Zophiel  said : 

"  But  little  time  doth  waning  night  allow." 

He  knelt ;  he  wept  ,•  calm  grew  the  winds  ;  he  fled. 


176  CANTO   THE   FOURTH. 

LIII. 
The  clouds  disperse  ;  his  heavenly  voice  he  sent 

In  whispers  through  the  caves  ;  Phraerion  there, 
In  covert  loathed,  to  that  low  music  lent 

His  soft  quick  ear  and  sprang  to  join  his  phere. 

LIV. 

Soon  through  the  desert,  on  their  airy  way, 
Mantled  in  dewy  mists  the  Spirits  prest, 

And  reached  fair  Media,  ere  the  twilight  grey 
Recall'd  the  rose's  lover  to  his  nest. 

LV. 
But  on  the  Tygris'  winding  banks,  though  night 

Still  lingers  round,  two  early  mortals  greet 
The  first  faint  gleam  with  prayer ;  and  bathed  and  dight 

As  travellers  came  forth.     The  morn  rose  sweet, 


And  rushing  by  them  as  the  Spirits  past, 
In  tinted  vapours  while  the  pale  star  sets ; 

The  younger  asked ,  "  Whence  are  these  odours  cast, 
The  breeze  has  waked  from  beds  of  violets  ?" 


Cuba.    Pueblo  Nuevo,  August  1828. 


NOTES 

TO 

CANTO    THE    FOURTH. 


(1)  "And  fed  on  the  revenge  deep  smouldering  in  his  breast" 

CAIUS  M ARIUS,  musing  over  the  ruins  of  Carthage,  has  been  made 
the  subject  of  a  very  good  picture ;  and  the  author  of  that  not  very 
old  Italian  work,  entitled  *  Notti  Romane,'  has  entered  with  great 
effect  into  those  feelings  which  the  successor  of  Sylla  probably 
acted  under.  If  the  characters  of  those  who  commit  crimes  could 
be  analyzed,  it  would  be  found,  perhaps  invariably,  that  such  persons 
are  either  too  stupid  to  be  sensible  of  what  they  do,  or  under  some 
illusion  of  feeling  or  imagination  which  entirely  conceals  from  them 
its  atrocity. 

"Nodrito  dalla  sola  vendetta  m*  inoltrai  sulla  spiaggia  pere- 
griuando  verso  Minturno :  ivi  mi  abbattei  immantininte  ne'  guerriei  i 
Sillani  miei  indefessi  persecutorL  Mi  gettai  fra  le  onde  a  nuoto,  e 
mi  rivolei  a  due  navi,  non  remote,  per  ricoverarmi  in  esse.  Le 
gravi,  provette,  vaste,  oppresse,  mie  membra  faceano  a  stento  quell' 
offizio,  cosi  che  il  sommergermi  era  imminente,  lo  udiva  intanto 
que'  sicarj  dal  lido  far  voti  crudeli  a  Nettuno,  ed  a  Nereo,  perche 
mi  traessero  negli  abbissi  loro,  et  invocare  i  mostri  voraci  del  mare ; 
e  schernire  con  ribalde  parole  quella  mia  trista  ansieta. 

u  A  me  sospinto  da  continue  sciagure,  scacciato  da  ogni  lido,  era 
omai  divenutoogni  terra  inospitale,  ogni  mare  tempestoso  ;  e  stetti 

5? 


178  NOTES   TO   CANTO    THE   FOURTH. 

muto  contemplando  le  ruine  della  spenta  Cartagine,  come  specchio 
della  fortuna." — Notti  Romane. 

Marius,  soon  after  the  scene  depicted  in  this  extract,  returned  to 
Rome,  and  (as  he  is  made  to  express  it  in  the  same  work)  purged 
the  city  of  its  horrid  ingratitude. 

(2)  "jFrom  where  with  children's  blood  their  guilty  altars  reek." 

The  Carthaginians  retained  the  custom  of  offering  human 
sacrifices  to  their  gods,  till  the  destruction  of  their  city.  When 
Gelon  of  Syracuse  gained  a  victory  over  them  in  Sicily,  one  of  the 
articles  of  stipulation  was  that  no  more  human  lives  should  be 
sacrified  to  Saturn.  "  For  (says  Rollin)  during  the  whole  engage 
ment,  which  lasted  from  morn  till  night,  Hamilcar,  the  son  of  Hanno, 
was  continually  offering  to  the  gods  sacrifices  of  living  men,  who 
were  thrown  on  a  flaming  pile."  Seeing  his  troops  put  to  flight, 
Hamilcar  threw  himself  upon  the  same  pile,  and  received,  after  his 
death,  divine  honours.  Mothers  (according  to  Plutarch  and 
Tertullian),  threw  their  children  into  the  sacrificial  flames ;  and 
the  least  indication  of  pity  or  sorrow,  would  have  been  punished 
in  them  as  impious. 

According  to  the  belief  of  the  fathers,  it  must  have  been  the. 
princely  instigator  of  the  rebellion  in  heaven  who  caused  himself  to 
be  adored  as  the  god  Belus  or  Saturn,  whose  altars  were  continually 
glowing  with  the  blood  and  flames  of  human  sacrifices.  Those 
angels  who  fell  from  the  thirst  of  power  must  have  been  the  authors 
of  all  cruelty.  The  seraphic  offenders  were  only  voluptuous.  The 
angel  presiding  over  licentious  love  is  sometimes  forcibly  alluded 
to  in  "  Les  Martyrs  "  of  M.  de  Chateaubriand. 

(3)  "  But  far,  far  off  upon  the  sea's  expanse. 
The  very  silence  has  a  shriek  of  fear." 

In  the  suspense  and  stillness  which  precedes  a  storm  on  or  near 
the  ocean,  or  any  other  vast  extent  of  water,  there  is  an  effect  pro- 
duced  on  the  feelings  of  some  persons,  as  if  a  shriek  were  really 


NOTES   TO   CANTO   THE   FOURTH.  170 

uttered  in  the  distance.  This  effect  was  probably  attributed,  by 
such  of  the  ancients  as  observed  it,  to  their  sea-gods  or  nymphs. 
Christian  fathers  or  Jewish  rabbins  must  have  supposed  it  to  pro 
ceed  from  those  angels  which,  according  to  the  books  of  the  latter, 
preside  over  the  elements. 

(4)  "  The  shivering  Sprite  of  flowers" 

According  to  the  Hebraic  writings,  nothing  animate  or  inani 
mate  exists  throughout  all  nature,  without  a  particular  angel  to 
protect  and  take  care  of  it. 

u  Archangelos  et  angelos,  quibus  cura  committitur  Regnorum,  v 
provinciarum,  Nationum,  principum,  et  paiticularium  personarum  ; 
quaeritur  igitur,  num  etiam  animalia  bruta,  et  res  insensibiles,  id 
est  lapides,  et  elementa  atque  etiam  vegetabilia  habeant  proprios 
Angelos  ad  sui  custodiam  destinatos  ?" — Bibliotheca  Magna  Rabbi- 
nica  ; — Bartoloccii. 

This,  whether  true  or  false,  is  much  more  delightful  than  the 
belief  or  knowledge  that  everything  depends  on  material  laws. 
The  Greeks  had  a  nymph  for  every  tree ;  and  their  religion  was  a 
mere  alteration  of  those  of  the  more  oriental  and  ancient  nations. 
The  idea  of  the  Elysian  fields  was,  it  has  been  supposed,  conceived 
by  Orpheus  after  a  glance  at  the  vast  subterranean  abodes  of  the 
priests  of  Egypt,  who,  as  is  usual,  converted  those  sublime  truths 
conveyed  to  them,  according  to  the  faith  of  the  fathers,  by  erring 
but  celestial  intelligences,  to  purposes  of  the  grossest  fraud  and 
cruelty. 

(5)  "  Not,  CLS  'tis  wont,  with  intermitting  flash^ 

But,  like  an  ocean,  all  of  liquid  Jlame." 

This  is  but  a  simple  description  of  the  appearance  of  the  sky  for 
several  minutes  during  a  storm  which  happened  (on  the  island  where 
the  verses  of  the  text  were  written)  either  in  the  year  1823  or 
1824.  I  lay  under  a  transparent  mosquito  net,  listening  to  the 


180  NOTES    TO    CANTO    THE    FOURTH. 

pleasing-  noise  made  by  the  trees  and  shrubs  around  the  principal 
dwelling  of  the  Cafetal  San  Patrieio,  and  watching  the  flashes  of 
lightning1  that  darted  through  the  green  blinds  of  an  unglazed 
window.  It  was  about  midnight  when  the  loudness  of  the  thunder 
peals  increased,  and  the  flashes  became  more  continued  than  any  I 
had  ever  seen.  A  crash  was  soon  heard  from  without,  and  the 
whole  room  seemed  deluged,  as  it  were,  with  flame. 

Thinking  the  building  on  fire  I  arose,  and  succeeded  in  waking 
a  negress,  who  still  slept  soundly  by  the  door  of  my  apartment. 
Going  into  the  hall,  and  getting  a  window  opened  which  looked 
into  a  broad  piazza,  I  was  surprised  to  see  it  occupied  by  those 
fierce  dogs  which  were  accustomed  to  be  let  loose  at  ten  or  eleven 
o'clock  at  night,  in  order  that  they  might  prowl  about  till  sunrise 
and  guard  the  plantation.  They  had  sought  shelter  from  the  ele 
ments,  and  as  they  ran  in  a  distressed  manner  from  one  side  of 
the  piazza  to  the  other,  it  seemed  as  if  they  moved  in  fire ;  for 
the  whole  firmament  continued  to  be,  at  long  intervals,  like  a  vast 
sea  of  light.  Some  glazed  windows  on  the  slant  roof  of  the  build 
ing  were  torn  from  their  hinges  and  whirled  over  the  secaderos,* 
and  the  rain  then  descended  in  cataracts. 

The  sun  rose  brightly  the  next  morning,  and  the  scene,  though 
rather  sad,  was  delightful.  The  Bermuda-grass  plats  were  strown 
with  leaves,  twigs,  and  broken  flowers  ;  and  numbers  of  those 
black  birds  which  the  Spanish  inhabitants  of  the  island  call 
judeosj  were  hovering  over  a  dark  clump  of  bamboos  which  had 
been  torn  up  by  the  roots,  and  uttering  the  most  piteous  cries ; 
for  many  of  them  were  unable  to  find  again  their  nests  constructed 
amidst  the  almost  impervious  foliage  of  those  vast  and  beautiful 
reeds  which  now  lay  prostrate. 

The  palm  thatching  was  torn  from  some  of  the  outhouses  of 

*  Secaderos  are  made  of  plaster,  in  the  manner  of  broad  platforms,  rising  a 
little,  however,  in  the  centre,  and  formed  with  many  divisions  and  conduits  for  * 
the  rain  which  is  retained  in  cisterns  beneath  them.    On  these,  the  red  and  sweet- 
smelling  coffee  berries  are  dried. 


NOTES  TO  CANTO  THE  FOURTH.     181 

San  Patricio.  One  mansion  and  a  neighbouring  estate  (belonging 
to  Don  Jos6  Martinez)  was  taken  by  the  tempest  from  an  insecure 
foundation  and  set  in  another  place ;  one  estate,  several  leagues 
distant  and  near  a  river,  was  deluged,  but  no  human  lives,  that  I 
heard  of,  were  lost. 

(6)  "  A  sable  mantle  fell  in  cloudy  fold 
From  its  stupendous  breast." 

That  many  of  the  angels  were  of  a  larger  stature  than  that  of 
men,  appears  to  have  been  believed  by  the  oriental  nations. 
Asrael,  or  Azarael,  who  assisted  in  forming  the  first  man,  was, 
according  to  Rabadan  the  Morisco,  noticed  particularly  by  the 
Creator  on  account  of  his  uncommon  stature. 

Herodotus  relates  that  Xerxes  while  yet  undecided  upon  carrying 
the  war  into  Greece,  was  warmly  dissuaded  from  his  design  by  his 
brother  Artabanes  ;  falling  asleep,  soon  after,  he  saw,  in  a  dream, 
a  man  of  uncommon  stature  and  beauty,  who  urged  him  on  to  the 
undertaking.  This,  Calmet  supposes,  must  have  been  some  angel  or 
spirit  who  sought  his  destruction. 

It  is  said  of  Apollonius  Tyaneus,  that,  coming  to  the  tomb  of 
Achilles,  he  raised  his  manes,  and  begged  that  the  figure  of  the 
hero  might  appear  to  him  ;  whereupon  a  phantom  appeared  like  a 
young  man,  seven  feet  and  a  half  high  ;  which  soon  increased  to 
twelve  cubits,  and  assumed  an  extraordinary  beauty.  The  whole, 
however,  proved  to  be  the  work  of  a  daemon  which  Apollonius  had 
power  over.  This  incident  is  introduced  by  Byron  in  c  Th* 
Deformed  Transformed.' 

(7)  "  There,  on  the  steam  of  human  heart-blood  spilt 
By  priest  or  murderer  make  repast." 

Those  evil  spirits  or  angels  who  caused  themselves  to  be  adored 
as  deities,  were  said  to  subsist  (according  to  M.  de  Fontenelle, 
who  gives  authority  for  all  that  he  asserts,*)  on  the  smoke  of 

*  *  Leurs  corps  aeriens  se  nourissent  de  fumigations  de  sang  r^pandu  et  de  la 
graisse  de  sacrifices.'— Histoire  des  Oracles. 


182  NOTES   TO    CANTO   THE    FOURTH. 

sacrifices.  One  is  almost  induced  to  believe,  with  the  earlier 
Christians,  that  daemons  really  inhabited  those  temples  where  so 
much  human  blood  was  spilt.  It  is  far  more  shocking  to  suppose 
that  so  horrid  an  expedient  could  have  been  invented  by  one's 
fellow-mortals  for  the  purposes  of  deception  or  interest. 

(8)  "  Over  the  vile  creations  of  thy  guilt" 

It  is  not  impossible  that  some  of  the  angels  who  assisted  at  the 
creation  (as  is  believed  by  all  very  ancient  nations)  might  after  the 
fall  have  amused  themselves  with  making  those  noisome  and 
disgusting  reptiles  and  animalcule  which  can  but  startle  one's 
belief  in  the  beneficence  of  the  being  who  formed  them. 

(9)  "  Waste  thy  life-giving  power  on  reptiles  foul" 

Life,  it  is  supposed,  may  exist  without  the  slightest  mixture  of 
soul,  as  is  the  case  with  many  marine  animals.  Some  chemists,  in 
the  enthusiasm  of  their  successes,  have  imagined  that  even  human 
life  was  kept  up  by  a  mechanical  process  carried  on  in  the  lungs. 
This,  granting  it  for  a  moment  to  be  true,  does  not  in  the  least 
detract  from  the  power  or  bounty  of  the  great  Creator  and  fountain 
of  soul,  for  of  what  value  is  any  animated  form  unless  ennobled  by 
a  breath  or  emanation  from  him  ? 

After  receiving  it  as  a  truth  that  such  beings  as  good  and  evil 
angels  exist,  one  may  reasonably  suppose  them  in  possession  of 
many  arts  and  much  science,  which  men,  from  the  shortness  of 
their  lives,  have  been  unable  to  attain. 

(10)  "  While,  blent  with  winds,  ten  thousand  agents  wage 
Anew  the  strife." 

Many  passages  in  the  writings  of  both  Jews  and  Christians 
occur  to  justify  this.  It  must,  however,  have  been  some  inferior 
angel,  who  (according  to  the  continually  quoted  belief  of  the  fathers) 
was  worshipped  as  the  god  JEolus.  The  "prince  of  the  powers  of 
the  air"  himself  must  have  been  sufficiently  employed  in  feasting  on 
the  exhalations  of  the  blood  of  his  numerous  sacrifices.  The  god 


NOTES  TO  CANTO  THE  FOURTH.     18:5 

Mars,  to  preserve  the  same  system  entire,  must  have  been  also 
one  of  his  subordinates.  The  field  of  battle,  therefore,  together 
with  the  hearts  that  quivered  on  altars  both  in  the  old  and  new 
world,  must  have  made  his  banquets  long  and  frequent. 

(11)  «  Though  the  first  seraph  formed,  how  could  I  tell 
The  ways  of  guile?" 

The  angels  are  supposed  to  have  been  created  at  different 
periods;  they  were  endowed  with  different  capacities,  and  had 
different  employments  assigned  to  them. 

"  Cum  enim  soli  Angeli  supremae  hierarchiae  immediate  illumi- 
nentur  a  Deo,  illi  soli  dicuntur  assistere  Deo ;  caeteri  aliarum 
hierarchiarum,  ministrantes  Angeli  nominantur.  Itaque  tarn  illi, 
quam  isti  sunt  fere  infiniti.'  —  Bibliotheca  Magna  Hebraica, 
Bartoloccit. 


CANTO  THE  FIFTH. 


ZAMBIA. 


ARGUMENT. 


Morning. — Melon  and  Hariph  travelling  along  the  banks  of  the 
Tigris.— Helon  is  sorrowful,  in  consequence  of  a  dream  of  the 
preceding  night ;  receives  a  box  from  Hariph.—  Helon  and  Hariph 
see  the  Princess  Zameia.— Neantes  relates  the  story  of  Zameia  ; 
her  appearance  in  the  temple  of  Mylitta ;  her  love  for  Meles ;  the 
falsehood  and  dereliction  of  Meles ;  her  sufferings ;  her  escape  from 
the  garden  of  Imlec. 


CANTO  THE  FIFTH. 


ZAMBIA. 


I. 

How  beauteous  art  thou,  O  thou  morning  sun  ! — 
The  old  man,  feebly  tottering  forth,  admires 

As  much  thy  beauty,  now  life's  dream  is  done, 
As  when  he  moved  exulting  in  his  fires. 

II. 

The  infant  strains  his  little  arms  to  catch 

The  rays  that  glance  about  his  silken  hair ; 
And  Luxury  hangs  her  amber  lamps,  to  match 

Thy  face,  when  turned  away  from  bower  and  palace 
fair. 

III. 
Sweet  to  the  lip,  the  draught,  the  blushing  fruit ; 

Music  and  perfumes  mingle  with  the  soul ; 
How  thrills  the  kiss,  when  feeling's  voice  is  mute  ! 

And  light  and  beauty's  tints  enhance  the  whole. 


188  CANTO    THE    FIFTH. 

IV. 
Yet  each  keen  sense  were  dullness  but  for  thee : 

Thy  ray  to  joy,  love,  virtue,  genius,  warms ; 
Thou  never  weariest :  no  inconstancy 

But  comes  to  pay  new  homage  to  thy  charms. 

v. 

How  many  lips  have  sung  thy  praise,  how  long  ! 

Yet,  when  his  slumbering  harp  he  feels  thee  woo, 
The  pleasured  bard  pours  forth  another  song, 

And  finds  in  thee,  like  love,  a  theme  for  ever  new. 

VI. 
Thy  dark-eyed  daughters  come  in  beauty  forth 

In  thy  near  realms  ;  and,  like  their  snow-wreaths  fair, 
The  bright-hair'd  youths  and  maidens  of  the  North 

Smile  in  thy  colours  when  thou  art  not  there. 

VII. 

'Tis  there  thou  bid'st  a  deeper  ardour  glow,  (1) 

And  higher,  purer  reveries  completest; 
As  drops  that  farthest  from  the  ocean  flow, 

Refining  all  the  way,  from  springs  the  sweetest. 

VIII. 
Haply,  sometimes,  spent  with  the  sleepless  night, 

Some  wretch  impassioned,  from  sweet  morning's  breath, 
Turns  his  hot  brow  and  sickens  at  thy  light ; 

But  Nature,  ever  kind,  soon  heals  or  gives  him  death. 


ZAMBIA.  189 

IX. 

Fair  sun,  no  goodlier  shape  thy  smiles  this  morn 
Caress'd  than  Helen's,  as  he  came  from  far; 

A  broidered  scarf  for  girdle,  closely  drawn, 

And  sandals  on  his  feet,  like  Parthian  messenger. 

X. 

The  youth's  brown  ringlets  in  the  loving  beam 

Hung  changeful,  bright,  and  crisp ;  his  neck  and  bust 

Have  thousand  beauties,  all  their  own,  and  seem 
Not  only  moulded  to  proportion  just, 


But  all  his  form,  slightly  attenuate, 

As  best  bespeaks  activity,  exprest 
Something  unseen ;  as  if  might  emanate, 

Excess  of  soul  through  the  material  breast,  (2) 


That  heaved  and  panted  'neath  his  garment  blue, 
(Which  fell  but  to  the  knee)  and,  all  about, 

A  warmth — a  mystic  charm — seemed  breathing  through 
Each  viewless  pore,  and  circling  him  without.  (3) 

XI. 

His  youthful  cheek  was  bronzed  ;  and  though  his  eye 
Was  of  no  vaunted  hue,  successive  came 

Of  war  and  chase  the  quick  variety ; 

But  oftener  tenderness  lent  there  her  gentlest  flame. 


190  CANTO   THE   FIFTH, 

XII. 

His  sinewy  arms  were  bare,  and  at  his  back 

A  bow  and  quiver  held  their  airy  place  ; 
Like  some  young  hunter  in  the  tiger's  track 

He  moved,  with  dart  in  hand,  all  symmetry  and  grace. 

XIII. 
But  though  (as  rosy  mists  dispersed  around 

And  birds  sang  sweet,  and  thousand  insects  humni'd  ;) 
He  met  with  passing  joy  the  sight  and  sound, 

Yet  sadness  o'er  his  face  full  soon  her  reign  resumed. 

XIV. 
Nor  this  escaped  an  old  man  at  his  side, 

Whose  looks  told  tales  of  many  years  ;  but  fair 
He  was,  and  for  a  youth  beseeming  guide ; 

Not  Casius'*  peaks  were  whiter  than  his  hair. 

xv. 

On  hair  or  robe  nor  spot  nor  stain  was  seen, 

Though  earth  had  been  his  bed,  and  dust  his  path  : 

Cool  look'd  he  in  the  sun,  and  pure  and  clean, 
As  if  in  marble  hall  and  fresh  from  recent  bath. 


*  For  the  origin  of  the  name  of  this  mountain  or  ridge,  see  an 
article  on  Mount  Caucasus  in  <  Asiatic  Researches.' 


ZAMBIA.  191 

XVI. 

And  so,  he  spoke : — "  Why,  Helon,  art  thou  thus 
Silent  and  sad  ?  the  desert  way  we've  past, 

Has  been  a  path  of  founts  and  flowers  to  us ; 
Yet,  at  our  wandering's  close,  I  view  thy  brow  o'ercast." 

XVII. 
Then  Helon  said :  "  What  cause  for  joy  have  I, 

E'en  were  th'  uncertain  dross  we  seek  for  found  ? 
Who  now  regards  my  gentle  mother's  sigh 

While  I  am  far  ?  and  what  reward  has  crowned 


"  My  father's  worth  and  truth  ?     Alas  !  our  God, 

Who  sits  rejoicing  in  his  mystery 
And  boundless  power,  I  fear  may  not  accord 

The  least  of  his  regards  to  them  or  me. 

XVIII. 
"  Forsake  but  him,  and  palaces  unfold 

Their  hospitable  gates  to  me  and  mine; 
Now,  for  a  beggar's  hoard,  a  little  gold, 

I  go  a  wanderer  forth,  the  last  of  all  my  line. 

XIX. 

"  I  gave  up  every  youthful  hope,  nay  more, 
Would  give  up  life  as  freely  as  a  sigh ; 

For,  if  old  Zoroh  live,  and  should  restore 

The  treasure  sought,  our  dwindled  line  must  die. 


192  CANTO   THE    FIFTH. 

XX. 

"  Why  beats  this  heart  ?  why  is  this  arm  so  strong  ? 

Soon,  to  a  little  earth  dissolved  again, 
Shall  ever  pen  of  scribe  or  harper's  song 

Declare  that  one  like  Helon  ere  has  been  ? 

XXI. 

"  My  sire  and  mother  dead,  around  their  tombs 

I,  like  a  ghost,  must  linger,  loving  nought : 
Oh  !  if  to  this  our  God  his  faithful  dooms, 

Cast — cast  me  to  the  flames,  and  save  me  from  the 
thought!"  (4) 

XXII. 

The  old  man  look'd  upon  him,  mark'd  his  pain, 
And  love  and  pity  mingled  with  that  look ; 

For  on  his  youthful  brow  was  swoln  the  vein, 
And  like  the  fevered  sick  his  pulses  shook. 


Yet  on  he  spoke : — •"  Still  might  I,  warm  with  life, 
Back  to  the  queen  of  cities  ;  take  my  place ; 

Choose  from  the  bowers  of  Babylon  a  wife ; 
And  bless  my  mother's  eyes  with  a  new-blooming  race. 


"  That  else  is  lost.     What,  though  the  fair  I  take 
E'en  from  Myiitta's  fanes  ?     Women  may  be 

Enthrall'd  by  love,  and  often  will  forsake 
All  other  gods  for  love's  idolatry."  (5} 


ZAMBIA.  193 

XXIII. 
The  old  man  turned  and  uttered, — "  Do  I  hear 

From  Helon  this  ? — some  evil  thing — some  Sprite, 
While  darkness  reigned,  has  whispered  in  thine  ear, 

And  tempted  thee,  in  visions  of  the  night." 

XXIV. 

"  Some  evil  thing?"  returned  the  youth  in  mood 

More  vehement :  "  If  evil  things  can  give 
Dreams  such  as  mine,  let  me  turn  foe  to  good, 

A.nd  make  a  God  of  Evil  while  I  live!" 

XXV. 

"  Make  thee  a  God  of  Evil  ?"  Hariph  said  ; 

"  Too  daring  boy,  the  ambient  viewless  air 
Teems  with  a  race  that  hovers  o'er  thy  head; 

Woe  to  thy  heart  and  thee  if  some  find  entrance  there ! " 

XXVI. 

"  From  childhood  nurtured  'neath  the  Baalic  willow, 

Where  every  breeze  respires  Idolatry, 
Thy  soul,  even  as  thy  lip  Euphrates  billow, 

Has  drank  pollution,  spite  of  heaven  and  me." 

XXVII. 
"Pollution! — Hariph,  could  such  being  beam 

(So  Helon  spoke)  as  from  a  fearful  death 
I  saved  last  night — (Ah !  why  was't  but  a  dream  ?) 

She  would  not  be  unworthy — tho5  her  breath 


194  CANTO   THE   FIFTH. 


"  Had  been  derived  from  Pagan  sorcerer, 
Priest  of  the  Cnidian  fanes,  or  priest  of  fire; 

The  signet  of  high  heaven,  impress5  d  on  her, 

Gives  to  oblivion  these,  and  stamps  her  heavenly  sire!" 

XXVIII. 
The  old  man  turn'd,  and  cast  upon  the  boy, 

(Who  for  his  fervour  spoke  in  impious  guise), 
An  anxious  glance ;  but  yet  a  secret  joy 

The  while  he  thus  reproved  seem'd  hidden  in  his  eyes. 

XXIX. 

"Thy  doubts  and  words  are  guilty!  'Tis  not  given 
To  son  of  mortal  (though  he  even  may  be 

O'erwatch'd  and  well-beloved  by  those  of  heaven) 
To  know  what  Beings  sway  his  destiny ; 

XXX. 

"  Thy  dream  was  good ; — but,  lest  thyself  undo 
All  that  is  done,  I  tell  thee,  youth,  beware  ! 

Curb  thine  impatience ;  keep  thy  God  in  view, 
And  drink  obediently  whatever  he  may  prepare. 

XXXI. 

"  Nor  deed,  nor  prayer,  nor  suffering  of  the  just 
Is  ever  lost :  (He  said;  his  clear  eye  flash'd.) 

Tempt  not  the  powers  that  love  thee  more  !" — then  first 
The  youth  felt  awe  and  dropt  his  lids  abash'd. 


ZAMBIA.  195 

XXXII. 

Still  Hariph  spoke  : — "  If  ever  them  shouldst  live 

To  be  in  danger  from  a  potent  sprite, 
Recall  me  to  thy  mind ;  take  what  I  give, 

And  burn  whate'er  it  holds,  with  perfume  in  his  sight." 

XXXIII. 
Heion  received  a  little  box  composed 

Of  carneol* ;  and  the  sun-beams  as  they  rush'd 
Through  the  transparent  hollow  gem,  disclosed 

What  seem'd  a  serpent's  heart,  but  dried  and  crushed. 

XXXIV. 

Then  bent  they  near  a  thicket,  side  by  side, 

Their  friendly  way ;  nor  more  in  words  exprest ; 

But  often  Helon  looked  upon  his  guide, 

And  seem'd  communing  with  his  inmost  breast. 

XXXV. 

Warm  grew  the  day;  and  now,  as  if  to  mock 
Their  sight,  with  sudden  wind  the  river  swept ; 

They  turn  a  mossy  dark,  projecting  rock, 

And  start, — for  'neath  its  crags,  a  woman  slept, 


*  The  carneol  is  a  gem  of  carnation  tint,  which  for  hardness 
ranks  little  below  the  ruby  and  amethyst. 


CANTO   THE   FIFTH, 


Pallid  and  worn,  but  beautiful  and  young, 

ThoJ  mark'd  her  charms  by  wildest  passions  trace; 

Her  long  round  arms,  over  a  fragment  flung, 
From  pillow  all  too  rude  protect  a  face, 


Whose  dark  and  high  arch'd  brows  gave  to  the  thought 
To  deem  what  radiance  once  they  towered  above ; 

But  all  its  proudly  beauteous  outline  taught 

That  anger,  there,  had  shared  the  throne  of  love, 

XXXVI. 

Rich  are  her  robes,  but  torn,  and  soil'd;  and  gleams 

Above  her  belt  a  dagger  set  with  gems. 
Her  long  thick  hair,  'scaped  from  its  braiding,  streams 

Black  as  a  serpent,  to  her  garments'  hems. 

XXXVII. 
Black  as  a  serpent ;-—  Daughters  of  the  woods, 

You  see  him  'mid  Mechaceba's  roses  ;  while 
Your  bright  canoes  upon  the  vernal  floods, 

Are  thrown  to  bear  you  to  some  floating  isle  :  (6) 


Where  sleeping  bisons  sail  upon  the  tide  ; — 
There,  while  thro'  golden  blossomed  nenuphar, 

Your  arrows  pierce  some  tall  flamingo's  side, 
He  rears  his  white-ringed  neck  and  watches  you  from 
far.  (7) 


ZAMBIA.  197 

XXXVIII. 
Her  sandall'd  feet  were  scarr'd,  and  drops  of  blood 

Still  rested  fresh  on  them,  by  tooth  of  thorn 
Expressed ;  and  let  day's  eye  look  where  it  would, 

'Twere  hard  to  find  such  beauty  so  forlorn. 

XXXIX. 

Near  on  the  moss  lay  one  who  seem'd  her  guide; 

A  mule  among  the  herbs  his  pittance  took; 
A  little  slave  of  Ethiope,  at  her  side, 

Sat  watching  o'er  them  all  with  many  a  sorrowing  look. 

XL. 
Helon  drew  back,  but  only  half  suppressed 

The  cry  surprise  propell'd. — "  What  strange  mischance 
Brings  to  the  desert  these  ?  " — While  so  address'd 

Hariph,  the  one  on  earth  awoke  beneath  their  glance ; 


And  laid  his  finger  on  his  lip,  in  fear, 

And  on  the  sleeper  gazed ; — she  did  not  stir : 

Then  throwing  from  his  sunken  eye  a  tear, 
He  fell  before  their  feet  a  suppliant  for  her. 

XLI. 
Tfcen  Helon  thus :  "  Distrust  us  not,  but  tell 

Why  thou  art  here,  and  who  is  that  soft  dame  ? 
Thyself,  thine  accent,  and  her  garb  speak  well 

That  from  the  City  of  the  Dove  ye  came.  (8) 


198  CANTO   THE   FIFTH. 

XLII. 
"Pm  one,  (he  said)  by  cruel  man  designed 

The  doubtful  faith,  in  absence,  to  protect 
Of  hearts  as  wayward  as  the  desert  wind ; 

And  which,  despite  of  all,  love  only  can  subject. 

XLIII. 
"  To  care  of  women,  nurtured  from  a  boy, 

Stranger,  in  me  a  suffering  wretch  you  see 
Ripen'd  to  age,  but  in  that  soft  employ, 

A  princess'  only  guard, — but  frail  and  weak  as  she. 

XLIV. 
"  Our  silken  limbs  by  biting  brambles  torn, 

Have  felt  the  noontide  heat  and  drenching  rain  ; 
And  that  bright  maid,  for  love  and  pleasure  born, 

Breathes  to  the  desert  blast  her  burning  sighs  in  vain. 

XLV. 
"  Yet  have  we  lived  adorers  of  that  power 

Which  to  the  death-reap'd  world  a  race  supplies 
As  numerous  as  the  stars  of  midnight  skies, 
Or  desert  sands,  or  dust  from  every  flower* 
That  blossoms  by  the  stream  that  flow'd  from  paradise. 


*Phrah:  the  original  name,  the  Euphrates,  is  thought  by  Jose- 
phus  to  signify  flower  or  dispersion.. 


ZAMBIA.  199 

XLVI. 
**  Divine  Mylitta  !   child  of  light  and  that 

Which  from  dark  nothing  form'd  the  teeming  earth,  (9) 
Of  that  which  on  the  circling  waters  sat ; 

Andwarm'd,  andcharm'dand  ranged,  till  Nature  sprang 
to  birth. 

XLVII. 
"  Divine  Mylitta  !  kindler  of  the  flames 

That  light  life's  lamp, — in  duteousness,  to  thee, 
I  brought  this  gem,  this  sun  of  Syrian  dames, 

But,  now  thy  slave   and  Love's,    thou   mock'st    her 
misery." 

XLVIII. 

Then  Helon  spoke :  "  Has  any  wretch,  more  fell 
Than  he  who  first  his  hurtful  arts  essay'd 

On  her  of  Paradise,  done  this  ?  nay,  tell 

Thy  tale ;  and  take,  if  we  can  lend  thee,  aid." 

XLIX. 

"  Then  listen,  stranger,  but  for  Belus'  sake 
Let  her  sleep  on  who  hath  such  need  of  rest," 

Zameia's  guardian  said ;  for  when  awake, 
The  flames  of  Tartarus  are  in  her  breast. 

L. 

"  She  sat  and  raved  last  eve,  in  the  pale  light, 
Till  the  fair  moon  she  looked  on  seem'd  to  shrink 

From  her  distress  :  fearing  some  spell  or  blight, 
I  drew  her  to  this  grot,  and  drugg'd  her  drink." 


200  CANTO   THE   FIFTH, 

LI. 
Then  softly  near  to  her  wild  couch  he  drew, 

Twining  the  tendrils  o'er  her,  as  he  can, 
To  save  from  sun  as  they  had  saved  from  dew, 

Then  sat  him  on  the  rock,  and  thus  his  story  ran : 

LII. 
"  The  warrior  Imlec  by  Euphrates'  side 

Received  his  birth  ;  there  still,  belike,  he  thrives  ; 
And  when  he  took  Zame'ia  for  a  bride, 

His  beard  was  white,  and  he  had  many  wives. 

LIII. 
"  Now,  when  I  tell  thee  her  inconstancy, 

Let  thoughts  of  pity  mingle  with  the  blame 
'Tis  just  to  cast  upon  adultery, 

And  scorn  and  coldness  to  the  nuptial  flame. 

Liv. 
"  There's  oft  which,  were  it  known,  might  wash  away 

Full  half  the  stain  of  guilt :  fame  will  not  heed 
The  train  of  lesser  truths ;  but  drags  to-day, 

And  shows  the  shuddering  world,  all  bare  and  black, 
the  deed. 

LV. 

"  There  were  who  said  that  Imlec's  life  was  vile, 
Ev'n  when  possess'd  of  all  her  blooming  charms  ; 

How  could  she  else  than  loathe  who  knew  the  while 
He  came  exhausted  from  an  Ethiop's  arms  ? 


ZAMBIA.  201 

LVI. 

"  Whatever  the  cause,  she  ever  would  rebel : 

Yet  when  increased,  her  loathing  pleased  him  best ; 

And,  for  caprice  or  love,  it  so  befel, 
He  built  for  her,  apart  from  all  the  rest, 

LVII. 
"  A  precious  palace,  and  a  garden  fair, 

And  gave  to  me  the  charge,  from  every  ill 
To  keep  and  guard  her  well ;  nor  ever  dare, 

Unless  it  wrong'd  his  love,  to  cross  in  aught  her  will. 

LVIII. 
"  So  she  had  founts  and  birds,  and  gems,  and  gold, 

And  care  of  these  and  her  was  given  to  me ; 
And  Imlec  (in  his  youth  a  warrior  bold) 

Beyond  the  Indus  went  on  embassy. 

LIX. 
"  Do  all  I  could,  she  sullen  grew  and  sad ; 

And  very  oft  the  public  streets  would  see, 
And  oft  (alas !  what  days  of  fear  I  had !) 

Her  deep  disgust  for  Imlec,  spoke  to  me. 

LX. 
"  I  knew  his  jealousy,  and  was  afraid ; 

For,  if  there  fell  upon  her  fame  a  breath, 
(While  treating  with  the  Indian  king  he  stay'd) 

I  had  been  charged  to  answer  it  with  death. 


202  CANTO   THE   FIFTH. 


"  What  could  I  ?  bland  Mylitta,  patroness 
Of  rich  Assyria  and  her  glowing  fair 

I  sought;  but  no  propitious  sign  might  bless 

The  milk-white  doves  and  flowers  of  beauty  rare 

LXII. 
"  I  daily  brought :  the  goddess  scorn'd  my  pains, 

And  turn'd  from  all  my  gifts  her  heavenly  eyes ; 
For  yet,  the  princess  never  at  her  fanes 

Of  her  young  charms  had  made  the  sacrifice 


"  Required  of  every  Babylonian  dame, 

Whoe'er  her  lord  or  sire  :  this  was  my  care  ; 

And  when  the  opening  of  the  roses  came, 

With  many  a  native  wreath  I  led  Zameia  there. 

LXIII. 
"  Oh !  it  was  sweet  to  see  in  marble  pure 

The  semblance  of  the  goddess  while  she  smiled, 
As  in  her  own  eternal  power  secure, 

She  watch'd  the  movements  of  her  light-winged  child. 

LXIV. 
"  Nor  e'er  had  icy  marble  took  such  charm  ; 

Save  that  the  deity  once,  in  a  dream, 
Came  to  her  sculptor  all  alive  and  warm, 

And  gave  him  power  to  catch  each  glow  and  gleam. 


ZAMBIA.  203 

XX  V. 

"  And  seem'd  her  lip  to  deeper  pleasure  changing, 
While  to  her  temple  rtish'd  th'  adoring  crowd, 

And  groups,  almost  as  fair  as  she,  arranging 

Their  offerings  at  her  feet,  in  soft  submission  bow'd; 

LXVI. 
"  The  tender  breeze  that,  sighing  all  about, 

Their  musky  locks  with  roses  woven  greets, 
Now  whispering  through  the  myrtle  groves  without, 

Now  fainting  with  variety  of  sweets. 

LXVI  I. 
"  A  fairer  scene  warm  Syria  never  shall  (10) 

Behold,  nor  ever  had  beheld  before ; 
Full  many  a  stranger  throng'd  the  festival ; 

And  here,  whate'er  their  god,  how  could  they  but  adore  ? 

LXVIII. 
"  But  of  the  gentle  votarists,  some  in  tears, 

And  lips  amidst  their  adoration  quivering, 
While  a  soft  horror  in  their  look  appears, 

Do  all  they  could,  with  fear  and  doubt  were  shivering. 

LXIX. 
"  Some,  form'd  for  faith  and  tenderest  constancy, 

But  to  avert  heaven's  anger  sought  the  place; 
And  breathe  for  absent  lord  the  blameless  sigh, 

And  shudder  at  the  stranger's  rude  embrace. 


204  CANTO   THE   FIFTH. 

LXX. 
"  Some,  in  whose  panting  hearts  the  natural  void 

Had  never  yet  been  fill'd,  all  in  a  glow 
Of  dubious  hope,  their  fervid  thoughts  employed 

In  picturing  all  they  wish'd  a  moment  might  bestow. 

LXXI. 

"  Full  in  the  midst,  and  taller  than  the  rest, 

Zame'ia  stood  distinct ;  and  not  a  sigh 
Disturbed  the  gem  that  sparkled  on  her  breast ; 

Her  oval  cheek  was  heighten'd  to  a  die, 


"  That  shamed  the  mellow  vermil  of  the  wreath,* 
Which  in  her  jetty  locks  became  her  well, 

And  mingled  fragrance  with  her  sweeter  breath  ; 
The  while  her  haughty  lips  more  beautifully  swell 


"  With  consciousness  of  every  charm's  excess  ; 

While  with  becoming  scorn  she  turn'd  her  face 
From  every  eye  that  darted  its  caress, 

As  if  some  god  alone  might  hope  for  her  embrace. 


*  This  might  have  been  of  the  pomegranate  flower,  the  bright 
scarlet  of  which  is  -very  becoming  to  a  dark  complexion  :  it  how 
ever  respires  but  a  faint  odour.  There  is  also  a  species  of  mimosa, 
which  produces  a  splendid  scarlet  flower,  much  esteemed  by  the 
women  of  those  climates  where  it  is  found. 


ZAMBIA.  205 

LXXII. 
Soon  one,  in  dress  of  noble  Median,  came 

Fresh  from  repose  and  from  the  bath  ;  and  he, 
Even  by  less  proud  and  less  expectant  dame, 

Might  well,  as  then  he  look'd,  be  deem'd  a  deity. 

LXXIII. 
"  The  tall  Zameia  seen  from  all  apart, 

Fix'd  his  black  eye,  and,  as  its  glance  she  caught, 
The  opening  lip,  the  involuntary  start, 

Spoke  more  than  words.  The  stranger  saw  and  sought. 

LXXIV. 
"  And,  when  the  priest  restored  her  to  my  hands, 

Goddess,  in  thy  propitiated  power, 
Let  holy  love  now  close  her  nuptial  bands ! 

So  prayed  I  as  we  went ;  but  evil  was  the  hour 


"  When  from  her  home  I  led  her !  some  fell  star, 
That  while  the  sorcerer  culls  his  herbs  malign 

Favours  his  spell,  with  secret  power  afar 
Reign'd  o'er  that  wretched  princess'  birth  and  mine. 

LXXV. 

"  Through  all  the  live-long  night  no  sleep  for  her ; 

She  call'd  me  to  her  couch  at  day's  first  beam ; 
But  not  on  lord  or  palace  to  confer : 

Stranger  and  festival— she  would  no  other  theme. 


200  CANTO   THE   FIFTH. 

LXXVI. 
"  I  lent  her  bath  of  perfume  every  art ; 

I  spread  her  banquet  of  the  choicest  store  ; 
I  bade  her  women  touch  their  lutes  apart, 

And  told  her  tales  she  never  heard  before, 

LXXVI  I. 
"  Warbled  her  birds,  her  bubbling  fountains  play'd ; 

But  bath  and  banquet  all  untouch'd  remain ; 
And  to  her  maidens  trilling  in  the  shade, 

She  called  impatiently  to  close  the  strain. 

LXXVIII. 

"  And  all  in  her  neglected  charms  she  lay; 

Fever  was  in  her  veins ;  her  pulse  beat  high  ; 
And,  on  the  morning  of  the  second  day, 

She  said,  *  Neantes,  wilt  thou  see  me  die  ? ' 

LXXIX. 

"  '  Die !  (so  I  spoke)  Venus  forfend  such  sight !' 
c  Then,  if  thou  wilt  not,  O,  my  friend  (she  said) 

Go  find  the  lovely  Median,  ere  'tis  night ; 
Nay,  dear  Neantes,  here  upon  this  bed 


"  '  Else  will  I  spill  my  blood.     The  wall  is  low 
Nearest  Euphrates,  where  pomegranates  bloom 

Among  the  orange  trees ;  nay,  wilt  not  go  ? 
Look  upon  this  !  and  who  shall  tell  my  doom 


ZAMEIA.  207 


"  '  To  Imlec  ?'     Then  that  dagger,  keen  and  bright, 
She  drew  from  'neath  her  robe  and  bade  me  be 

Content  to  go  and  find  the  Mede  ere  night. 
Lord  Imlec,  this  was  treachery  to  thee  ! 

LXXX. 

"  But  well  I  knew  Zameia ;  was  afraid, 

And  bow'd  me  to  the  earth,  and  said,  '  then  be, 

Thou  dearest  wife  of  him  I  serve,  obey'd, 
Though  to  destruction  both  of  thee  and  me ! ' 

LXXXI. 
"  She  took  the  ruby  from  her  neck,  give  this, 

Tis  red,  like  my  life-blood,  and  he  will  know, 
(She  said,  and  gave  the  jewel  many  a  kiss) 

Upon  whose  bosom  he  beheld  it  glow/ 

LXXXI  I. 

"  Then  as  a  beggar  all  in  humble  guise 
I  sat  me  on  the  palace  steps,  and  thence 

Beheld  the  stranger  of  the  sparkling  eyes 
Late  as  he  came  from  kingly  audience. 

LXXXIII. 
"  Then  I  approach'd  and  touch'd  the  broider'd  tie 

That  bound  his  sandal  on  ;  he  turn'd  and  knew 
The  crimson  token ;  took  it  silently, 

And,  quickly  mingling  with  the  crowd,  withdrew. 


208  CANTO   THE    FIFTH. 

LXXXIV. 
"  But  when  all  past  and  I  sat  down  alone. 

He  came  again ;  but,  for  he  knew  his  life 
For  slightest  wrong  to  Irnlec  must  atone, 
Against  the  hope  of  bliss  some  doubt  and  fear  made 
strife. 

LXXXV. 
" '  Jewels,  he  said,  are  dim  to  her  dark  eyes 

What  precious  gift  shall  match  this  token  dear  ?' 
*  One  ringlet  of  thy  black  hair  she  will  prize, 
I  said,  beyond  the  gems  of  all  Ophir.'  (11)] 

LXXXVI. 
"  Then  I  depicted  how  she  wept  and  burn'd 

And  panted  on  her  couch  ;  nor,  haply,  more 
Would  rise  again  to  life,  when  I  returned 

If  any  poorer  gift  than  love  and  hope  I  bore. 

LXXXVII. 
"  Great  was  the  meed  (I  said)  the  danger  small ; 

The  moon  at  midnight  down  ;  nor  very  high, 
Beside  the  river's  brink  her  garden  wall ; 

And  safe  the  path  from  every^hand  and  eye.  * 

LXXXIII. 
"  So,  ere  he  could  depart,  the  hour  of  love 

Was  named ;  and  this,  my  little  Ethiop,  hung 
A  curious  chain,  of  silken  girdles  wove,  | 
Down  from  the  wall  where  light  from  bended  date  he 
sprung. 


ZAMBIA.  209 

LXXXIX. 

"  Holy  Euphrates  lowly  murmurming  swept  (12) 
As  if  he  moan'd  our  treachery  ;  sadlier  sang 

The  nightingale  :  her  watch  Zame'ia  kept 

Until,  upon  the  flowers,  some  being  gently  sprang. 


"  It  was  the  Mede ;  and  thrice  returning  night 
With  friendly  veil  of  darkness  hid  their  loves  ; 

But  soon  again  the  crescent's  silver  light 

Must  shine  upon  the  deeds  of  Imlec's  weeping  groves. 

XCI. 

"  A  light  repast  was  set  forth  in  a  bower ; 

There  sat  Zame'ia  by  her  lover's  side, 
With  heart  of  bliss  so  full,  it  had  not  power 

Or  space  for  even  a  thought  of  all  that  might  betide. 

XCII. 
"  But  Meles  said :  *  Should  I  return  no  more, 

Wouldst  thou  this  love's  excess,  so  dear  to  me, 
For  white-hair'd  Imlec's  coming  keep  in  store  ? 

Or  should  some  other  brave  the  peril  scorn'd  for  thee  ? 

XCIII. 
"  <  Were  it  not  better,  if  my  soul  could  tear 

It  from  thy  sight,  that  Meles  went  his  way 
In  peace  to  seek  some  other  humbler  fair  ? 
Princess,  my  life  and  thine  are  forfeit  if  I  stay.' 

p 


210  CANTO   THE    FIFTH. 

XCIV. 
"  Zameia,  paler  than  the  ivory  white  (13) 

That  formed  the  pillars  of  her  couch,  exclaim'd : 
'Do  I  not  love  thee  more  than  life  or  light? 

And  have  I  lived  to  hear  another  named  ? 

XCV. 
"  *  Imlec  to  thee  is  nought !  and  all  in  vain 

His  love  for  me  :  'tis  Meles  I  adore. 
If  danger  come,  be  mine  the  care  and  pain  ! 

Another !  let  me  die  or  hear  that  word  no  more.' 

XCVI. 
"  '  My  own,  my  bright  Zame'ia's  truth,'  he  said, 

'  'Twas  spoken  but  to  prove ;'  and  then  he  smiled, 
And  her,  all  trembling,  to  the  banquet  led  ; 

And  love  and  hope  are  twins ;  and  so  she  was  beguiled. 

XCVI  I. 
"  Another  midnight  saw  them  as  before ; 

With  banquet  spread  and  wine  the  lip  to  woo  ; 
Zame'ia,  'neath  her  robe's  adornment,  wore 

A  steel  half  hid  in  gems;  he  saw  it  sparkle  through. 

XCVIII. 
"  But  well  he  knew  (with  all  the  tenderness 

Meet  for  a  heart  whose  fires  so  fiercely  burn) 
To  hush  her  doubts.     With  many  a  false  caress 

He  went,  and  many  an  oath  and  promise  of  return. 


ZAMBIA.  211 

XCIX. 
w  The  bower  is  lit;  the  banquet  waits;  and  wake 

Love's  votaress  and  her  trembling  slave  ;  but  where 
The  lover  wont  to  come  and  scarce  partake 

E'en  of  the  grape's  sweet  blood  for  gazing  on  his  fair  ? 


*'  Lone  past  the  night.     My  beauteous  mistress  faints 
Upon  her  couch ;  or  fills  the  frighted  ears 

Of  every  slave  with  passionate  complaints ; 

For,  darkly  to  her  soul  her  boding  fate  appears. 

c. 

"  Another  midnight — still  he  had  not  come — 

And  thus  she  me  reproach'd :  '  All  had  been  bliss, 

Neantes,  but  for  thee.     Is  this  my  doom  ? 
And  was  I  made  an  offering  but  for  this  ? ' 

CI. 
**  Alas !  I  answered,  I  am  but  a  slave, 

Princess,  and  thine :  destroy  me  if  thou  wilt. 
Shall  I  go  look  for  him  the  goddess  gave  ? 

Or  for  thy  pleasure  shall  my  blood  be  spilt. 

CII. 
**  The  frailest  hope  is  better  than  despair, 

And  many  a  life  a  timely  word  has  saved. 
She  bade  me  to  the  palace ;  but  not  there 

To  find  her  Median  more :  the  stream  that  laved 


'212  CANTO   THE    FIFTH. 


"  The  garden  where  they  met,  at  early  morn, 
To  his  own  land  had  seen  him  on  his  way ; 

Nor  word  nor  token  left  he,  to  be  borne 

To  her  who,  for  his  sake,  sicken'd  at  light  of  day. 

CIII. 
"  But  that  it  had  been  death  to  tell  her  then : 

What  means  to  save,  alas,  could  I  employ  ? 
That  moment  came  beneath  a  column's  shade, 

To  rest  him  there  awhile,  a  dusky  Arab  boy. 

CIV. 
"  Quick  came  the  thought :  I  gave  him  gold  and  craved 

A  cluster  of  his  locks;  he  gave  me  one; 
And  black  as  earth-hid  ebony  it  waved 

Like  those  of  Meles,  thanks  to  thee,  O  sun ! 

cv. 

"  In  childhood,  once,  slave  to  a  scribe,  I  sought 
To  trace  the  character  and  shape  the  reed ; 

And  sometimes  when  my  lord  beheld,  he  taught 
A  little  of  his  art,  and  now  it  served  my  need. 

CVI. 

"  The  choicest  of  the  Arab's  locks  I  dipt, 
And  framed  a  letter  as  from  Meles'  hand  ; 

Then,  a  black  ringlet  first  in  perfumes  dipt, 

Laid  in  the  midst :  nor  words  more  sweet  and  bland 


ZAMBIA. 


"  Could  Meles  of  the  honey'd  lip  indite ; 

'Twas  written  on  papyrus  of  the  Nile, 
Fragrant  with  rose ;  as  opening  lotos  white ; 

And  gold  and  silver  dust  in  sprinkles  o'er  it  smile.  (14) 

CVII. 
"  *  Neath  the  pomegranates  in  the  orange  shade, 

Where  lingered  last  the  Median ;  (such  my  plan) 
Among  the  falling  blossoms  it  was  laid 

In  secret,  ere  I  came ;  and  thus,  in  promise,  ran. 

CVJII. 
"  *  Radiant  Zameia,  think  upon  the  pain 

I  bear  in  telling  thee,  how  many  a  night 
Must  pass,  ere  back  to  Babylon  again 

I  come  to  yield  my  life  to  thy  delight. 


*'  My  soul  is  sick  with  absence  I  while  the  will 
Of  an  unpitying  sov'reign  bids  me  wait. 

Preserve  a  little  of  love's  balm  to  heal 

Thy  Meles,  who  returns  at  gathering  of  the  date. 

CIX. 

"  So,  when  among  the  flowers  the  scrolls  was  flung, 
Sadly  I  came  at  having  found  him  not ; 

And  near  that  wall  where  silken  chain  was  hung, 
I  drew  Zameia.     On  the  very  spot, 


214  CANTO   THE    FIFTH. 


"  Where  her  loved  Meles  spoke  his  last  farewell, 
That  princess  kissed  a  camel-driver's  hair, 

And  tears  of  joy  (ah !  too  fallacious  1)  fell 

On  what  a  slave's  poor  hand  had  placed  in  pity  there, 

ex. 

"  Yet,  though  'twas  sad  to  see  her  so  deceived, 

I  could  but  bless  the  tears  her  cheek  was  drinking ; 
For  pity  framed  the  falsehood  hope  believed, 

And  so  by  this  slight  reed  her  soul  was  saved  from 
sinking. 

CXI. 
"  The  gathering  of  the  sweet  and  savoury  date 

Approached,  and  Imlec  still  was  far  away- 
Zameia  learn'd  to  wait,  and  hope,  and  wait, 

And  bless'd  the  powerful  Belus  for  his  stay. 

CXII. 
"  But  as  the  date-tree  sees  her  blossoms  die,  (15) 

And  blasted  on  the  earth  her  fruit's  soft  germ, 
Unless  her  vegetable  love  come  nigh, 

With  genial  power,  while  yet  endures  her  term ; 

CXIII. 
"  So  poor  Zameia's  hopes,  like  date-buds,  down 

Must  fall  to  earth  unblest  and  immature : 
Alas  !  unless  her  Meles  come  to  crown 

With  fruit,  hope's  blossoms  cannot  long  endure ! 


ZAMBIA.  215 

CXIV. 

*'  The  date  was  ripe  and  pluck'd ;  but  still  there  came 
No  beauteous  Mede.  Zameia  raged  and  pined, 

And  pined  and  hoped  and  wept ;  what  could  I  frame  ? 
With  what  new  bland  deceit  bedew  her  withering  mind. 

cxv. 

"  Night  after  night,  she  waked  and  waked  ;  consumed 

Her  full  round  arms ;  no  tulip  hue  upon 
Her  sunny  cheek  in  changeful  beauty  bloom'd ; 

She  felt  a  dearth,  a  blight,  and  all  was  cold  and  wan. 


"  I  trembled  for  her  life ;  and  on  a  day 

When,  'neath  the  full  pomegranates  walk  she  must 
Among  the  flowers,  another  letter  lay ; 

And  thus  it  flow'd  as  kindly  as  the  first. 

CXVI. 
"  <  Adored  Zameia !  if  thou  still  dost  bear 

Enough  of  love  to  feel  a  moment's  pain 
That  Meles,  still  detained  by  toil  and  care, 

Comes  not  to  thee  and  Babylon  again, 


"  '  Though  dates  be  pluck'd,  I  prithee  wait  a  span, 
For  when  rich  spices  from  Arabia's  hills 

Load  for  thy  happy  streets  the  caravan, 

I  come  to  keep  the  word  my  panting  soul  fulfils.' 


216  CANTO   THE   FIFTH. 

cxvii. 
"  I  need  not  tell  who  placed  the  letter  there; 

And  though  her  reason  made  some  little  strife, 
By  sending  doubt  'gainst  hope,  yet  from  despair 

Awhile  her  heart  emerged  ;  and  so  was  saved  her  life. 

CXVII  T. 
"  Again  she  bathed  her  limbs,  and  eat  her  food, 

And  bound  her  streaming  hair,  and  clasped  her  zone. 
Xike  the  wild  courser,  by  his  wants  subdued, 

So  stoop'd  her  soul  to  feed  on  this  poor  hope  alone. 

CXIX. 

"  The  Median  had  but  lightly  loved  ;  while  she 
Inhaled  a  flame  that  never  ceased  to  prey 

Upon  her  victim  heart ;  she  ceased  to  be, 
And,  severed  from  herself,  became,  that  day, 


"  Appendage  to  another.     Not  the  string 
Of  Meles'  sandal,  scarf  about  his  waist, 
Or  feather  for  his  arrows,  was  a  thing 
More  wholly   his   than   she,   so   proud   ere  love   de 
based  !  (16) 

cxx. 

"  Euphrates'  floods  are  swoln  with  timely  rain  ; 

Cassia  and  myrrh  perfume  the  crowded  streets ; 
The  burthen  from  the  camel's  back  is  ta'en ; 

But  Meles'  footsteps  press  no  flower  in  our  retreats. 


ZAMBIA.  217 

CXXJ. 

"  Most  wretched  princess  !  who  her  state  can  show  ? 

Panting  with  haste  a  messenger  arrives 
To  tell  (Oh !  full  completion  of  her  woe  !) 

That  Imlec's  on  his  way,  and  bids  prepare  his  wives. 

CXXII. 
"  *  Hide  me,'  she  said,  *  in  some  dark  desert  cave! 

Till  I  can  look  a  moment  on  my  love ! 
Cast  me,  Neantes,  to  Euphrates'  wave 

Ere  Imlec  come  !    Oh,  Venus  !  can  I  prove 


"  '  For  Meles'  ardour,  frenzy  of  the  grape, 
The  poppy's  foetid  juice  for  Meles'  breath  ? 

Save  me,  Neantes,  aid  me  to  escape ! 
If  Imlec  clasp  at  all,  he  clasps  me  cold  in  death.' " 

CXXIII. 
"  Her  forceful  words  were  true  :  her  pale,  pale  cheek 

And  tearless  eye  too  strong  concurrence  gave ; 
And  o'erwrought  passion  left  her  form  so  weak, 

But  little  more  had  laid  it  in  the  grave. 

CXXIV. 
"  A  curious  cincture  by  her  mother  wrought, 

Twined  with  a  tress  of  her  black  hair  was  thrown 
To  the  full  stream,  to  baffle  those  who  sought : 

But  by  no  vestige  might  our  course  be  known. 


218  CANTO   THE   FIFTH. 

CXXV. 

"  Enough  to  tell,  upon  a  fearful  night, 

By  the  same  silken  chain  that  Meles  prest, 

The  garden  wall  was  scaled  :  our  piteous  plight, 
This  place,  O  stranger  !  must  declare  the  rest." 


Cuba.    Pueblo  Nuevo,  September  1828. 


NOTES 

TO 

CANTO    THE    FIFTH. 


(1)  iC>Tis  there  thou  bidst  a  deeper  ardour  glow.1'' 

IT  has  been  generally  believed  that  l  the  cold  in  clime  are  cold  in 
blood,'  but  this  on  examination  would,  I  am  convinced,  be  found 
physically  untrue;  at  least,  in  those  climates  near  the  equator. 
It  is  here  that  most  cold-blooded  animals,  such  as  the  tortoise,  the 
serpent,  and  various  tribes  of  beautiful  insects,  are  found  in  the 
greatest  perfection. 

Fewer  instances  of  delirium  or  suicide,  occasioned  by  the  passion 
of  love,  would,  perhaps,  be  found  within  the  tropics  than  in  the 
other  divisions  of  the  earth.  Nature,  in  the  colder  regions,  appears 
to  have  given  an  innate  warmth  and  energy  proportionate  to  those 
efforts,  which  the  severity  of  the  elements  and  the  numerous  wants 
which  they  create,  keep  continually  in  demand. 

Those  who  live,  as  it  were,  under  the  immediate  protection  of 
the  sun,  have  little  need  of  internal  fires.  Their  blood  is  cool  and 
thin  ;  and  living  where  everything  is  soft  and  flattering  to  the 
senses,  it  is  not  surprising  that  their  thoughts  seldom  wander  far 
beyond  what  their  bright  eyes  can  look  upon. 

Though  sometimes  subject  to  violent  fits  of  jealousy,  these 
generally  pass  off  without  leaving  much  regret  or  unhappiness 
behind,  and  any  other  object  falling  in  their  way  (for  they  would 
not  go  far  to  seek  it)  would  very  soon  become  just  as  valuable  to 
them  as  the  one  lost.  Such  of  them  as  are  constant  are  rather  so 


220  NOTES   TO   CANTO   THE   FIFTH. 

from  indolence,  than  from  any  depth  of  sentiment  or  conviction  of 
excellence.  "  The  man  who  reflects  (says  Rousseau)  is  a  monster 
out  of  the  order  of  nature."  The  natives  of  all  tropical  regions 
might  be  brought  forward  in  proof  of  his  assertion :  they  never 
look  at  remote  results,  or  enter  into  refined  speculations  ;  and  yet, 
are,  undoubtedly,  less  unhappy  than  any  other  of  the  inhabitants  of 
earth. 

(2)  "  Excess  of  soul  through  the  material  blast." 

I  have  never  observed  this  effect  except  in  very  few  instances, 
and  those  were  of  persons  neither  brilliant  for  their  attainments 
nor  (with  one  exception)  remarkable  for  external  beauty.  They 
were,  however,  possessed  of  most  excellent  dispositions,  and  it  was 
impossible  to  converse  with  them  without  being  sensible  of  some 
thing  which  could  be  felt  and  almost  seen — a  sort  of  emanation. 

(3)  "  A  warmth^— a  mystic  charm — seemed  breathing  through 

Each  viewless  pore,  and  circling  him  without.11 

This  is  but  a  copy  from  the  life ;  and  the  original  of  it  was  so 
uneducated  as  to  be  scarcely  tolerable  ;  he  had  made,  however,  the 
most  generous  sacrifices  for  his  friends  and  relatives  ;  and  it  was 
impossible  to  be  near  and  look  at  him,  while  speaking,  without 
perceiving  all  attempted  to  be  described  in  the  text. 

(4)  " Cast  me  to  the  flames,  and  save  me  from  the  thought !  " 

Human  victims  were  sometimes  thrown  into  fires  burning  in 
honour  of  the  god  Baal.  It  appears  from  some  passages  in  the 
Mosaic  writings  that  the  same  custom  prevailed  even  among  the 
Hebrews. 

(5)  « Forsake 

All  other  gods  for  love's  idolatry." 

It  appears  that  the  Hebrews  were  not  averse  to  intermarrying 
with  those  of  other  nations,  provided  such  would  embrace  their 


NOTES   TO    CANTO   THE    FIFTH.  221 

religion.  "  Pharaoh's  daughter  became,  it  is  supposed,  a  proselyte ; 
a  marriage  with  her  was  not,  therefore,  considered  a  fault  in  their 
wise  but  voluptuous  king. — See  notes  to  Josephm. 

(6)  "  Are  thrown  to  bear  you  to  some  floating  isle.11 

For  an  account  of  those  flowery  islets  which  once  floated  about 
the  Mississipi,  from  whose  mud  and  vegetation  they  were  formed, 
one  has  only  to  look  at  the  beginning  of  Atala.  There  M.  de 
Chateaubriand  has  given  a  description  surpassed  only  by  the  exqui 
site  story  which  follows. 

The  Mexicans,  before  the  conquest  of  their  city  by  Cortez,  were 
accustomed  to  sail  about  its  lakes  on  floating  islets ;  these,  how 
ever,  must  have  been  constructed  by  art. 

(7)  "  He  rears  his  white-ringed  neck,  and  watches  you  from  far." 

The  ring-necked  serpent  is  still  sometimes  seen  in  North  Ame 
rica  ;  it  is  of  a  shining  black,  with  a  white  circle  about  its  neck,  as 
exact  as  if  drawn  with  a  pencil.  From  the  extreme  swiftness  of  its 
movement,  it  received  from  the  English  settlers  the  name  of  horse- 
racer.  It  lifts  its  head,  from  time  to  time,  above  the  grass,  through 
which  it  glides,  and  is  said  to  have  the  power  of  destroying  even 
men,  by  twining  itself  about  them.  If  death,  however,  has  ever 
happened  from  that  cause,  the  cases  of  it  must  have  been  very 
unfrequent.  I  saw,  when  a  child,  a  very  young  snakelet  of  this 
kind,  which  had  been  found  in  a  cellar,  and  was  kept  in  spirits  of 
wine  by  the  woman  of  the  house ;  it  was  of  the  length  of  a  common 
pen,  and  very  smooth  and  delicate. 

(8)  «  That  from  the  City  of  the  Dove  ye  came" 

The  dove  was,  in  ancient  times,  the  device  of  the  Assyrian  em 
pire,  as  the  eagle  was  that  of  the  Roman ;  and  was  adopted  from  a 
belief  that  the  Indian  god,  Maha-deva,  and  his  goddess,  Parvate, 
once  assumed  the  appearance  of  doves,  in  order  to  benefit  the 
inhabitants. 


4222  NOTES   TO    CANTO   THE   FIFTH. 

The  worship  of  the  dove  was  peculiar  to  India,  Arabia,  Syria, 
and  Assyria.  Semiramis,  the  Queen  and  beautifier  of  Babylon,  is 
said  to  have  been  fed  by  doves  in  the  desert,  and  to  have  vanished 
at  last  from  the  sight  of  mortals  in  the  shape  of  a  dove. 

Semiramis  was  supposed  to  have  been  an  incarnation  of  Parvate, 
consort  of  Maha-deva,  or  Nature,  which  goddess  was  called  Sami- 
rama,  from  a  circumstance  (related  in  one  of  the  Puranas)  of  her 
having  chosen  to  reside  in  a  Sami-tree,  whither  she  had  fled  from 
the  god,  her  husband,  in  a  fit  of  jealousy. 

It  is  from  the  Sarai-tree  that  the  Indians  cut  the  Arani,  a  cubic 
piece  of  wood,  from  which  they  obtain  fire  by  drawing  a  cord 
through  a  perforation  in  the  centre. 

According  to  the  fable,  a  fire  issued  from  Sami-rama  while  per 
forming  austere  devotion,  which  spread  over  the  whole  range  of 
mountains  near  her  retirement.  This  fire  she  confined  to  the  Sami- 
tree,  in  pity  to  the  neighbouring  people. 

The  Arani  is  still  called  by  the  Indians  the  "  daughter  of  the 
Sami-tree  and  mother  of  fire." 

See  an  extract  from  the  Hindu  Sacred  Books,  contained  in 
the  Asiatic  Researches. 

(9)  «  Divine  Mylitta  !  child  of  light,  and  that 

Which  from  dark  nothing  formed  the  teeming  earth." 

The  earnest  and  apparently  pure  adoration  of  Neantes  for  this 
goddess  may  proceed  from  some  glimpses  of  Oriental  and  Grecian 
cosmogony  caught  from  the  scribe,  his  former  master.  One  of  the 
Venuses  is  said  to  have  been  the  daughter  of  Coelus  and  Light. 
This  personification  of  the  soul  or  active  principle  of  creation, 
by  a  form  of  perfect  beauty,  was  an  idea  sublime,  perhaps,  as 
delightful ;  but,  like  everything  else  of  excessive  refinement,  was 
incapable  of  being  generally  understood  in  the  manner  first  de 
signed  ;  and  soon  became  perverted  to  the  sanction  of  a  pernicious 
licentiousness.  The  following  is  extracted  from  Enfield's  *  Com 
pendium  of  Brucker' : — 


NOTES   TO   CANTO   THE   FIFTH.  223 

"  There  were  different  opinions  among  the  ancients  concerning 
the  first  cause  of  nature.  Some  might,  possibly,  ascribe  the  origin 
of  all  things  to  a  generating  force,  destitute  of  thought,  which  they 
conceived  to  be  inherent  in  matter,  without  looking  to  any  higher 
principle.  But  it  is  probable  that  the  general  opinion  among  them 
was  that  which  had  prevailed  among  the  Egyptians  and  in  the 
East,  and  was  communicated  by  traditions  to  the  Greeks — that 
matter  or  chaos  existed  eternally  with  God ;  that  by  the  divine 
energy  of  emanation  material  forms  went  forth  from  him,  and  the 
visible  world  arose  into  existence.  This  principle  being  admitted, 
a  satisfactory  explanation  may  be  given  of  most  of  the  Grecian 
fables.  Upon  this  supposition,  their  doctrines  of  the  Creation, 
divested  of  all  allegory  and  fable,  will  be  as  follows :  the  first 
matter,  containing  the  seeds  of  all  future  beings,  existed  from  eter 
nity  with  God.  At  length  the  divine  energy,  acting  upon  matter, 
produced  a  motion  among  its  parts,  by  which  those  of  the  same 
kind  were  brought  together,  and  those  of  a  different  kind  separated ; 
and  by  which,  according  to  certain  wise  laws,  the  various  forms  of 
the  material  world  were  produced.  The  same  energy  of  emanation 
gave  existence  to  animals  and  men,  and  to  Gods  who  inhabit  the 
heavenly  bodies  and  various  other  parts  of  nature.  Among  men, 
those  who  possess  a  larger  portion  of  the  divine  nature  than  others, 
are  hereby  impelled  to  great  and  beneficent  actions,  and  afford 
illustrious  proofs  of  their  divine  original,  on  account  of  which  they 
are,  after  death,  raised  to  a  place  among  the  gods,  and  so  become 
objects  of  religious  worship."  * 

(10)  u  A  fairer  scene  warm  Syria  never  shall 
Behold." 

Of  the  festivals  given  in  honour  of  Mylitta,  Herodotus  has  given 
an  account ;  and  a  very  full  and  amusing  one  is  to  be  found  in 

*  This  is  perfectly  in  accordance  with  the  Christian  belief,  that  the  places  left 
vacant  by  the  fallen  angels  are  to  be  supplied  by  human  souls ;  and  some  of  the 
fathers  suppose  that  such  secrets  could  only  have  been  communicated  to  the 
heathen  by  means  of  angels. 


224  NOTES   TO   CANTO   THE   FIFTH. 

"  Les  Voyages  d'Antenor."  No  blood  flowed  upon  the  altars  of 
this  goddess  ;  roses,  apple-blossoms,  fruits,  incense,  and  perfumes, 
were  thought  more  acceptable  offerings.  Mylitta  is  but  one  of  the 
names  of  Venus. 

(11)  « The  gems  of  all  OpAzV." 

Ophir,  or  Aurea  Chersonesus.  This  pronunciation  of  the  word 
is  agreeable  to  the  accent  of  all  modern  Oriental  languages,  which, 
as  they  are  generally  founded  on  the  Hebraic,  are,  of  course,  more 
conformable  to  the  ancient  sweetness  of  a  language  supposed  to 
have  been  that  of  angels  and  spirits,  than  those  harsh  sounds  to 
which  it  is  now  perverted  by  English  and  North  American 
Theologists.  The  present  Spanish  pronunciation  of  scriptural 
names  is  very  soft  and  delightful. 

The  language  in  which  the  Koran  is  written,  and  which  is 
universally  studied  and  spoken  by  learned  Mahometans,  is  said  to 
be  a  dialect  of  the  Hebrew.  The  guttural  sounds  of  the  modern 
Castilian  have  probably  been  remotely  derived  from  the  same 
source. 

(12)  "  Holy  Euphrates  lowly  murmuring  swept" 

Rivers  were  in  general  held  sacred  by  the  nations  of  antiquity, 
and  to  wash  the  hands,  spit,  or  throw  anything  of  an  impure 
nature  into  the  Euphrates,  was  punished  by  the  Babylonians  as  an 
act  of  the  greatest  impiety.  Peleus  vowed  to  make  an  offering  of 
the  hair  of  Achilles  to  the  stream  Sperchius,  in  case  he  returned 
victor  from  Troy. 

(13)  "  Zambia,  paler  than  the  ivory  white 

That  formed  the  pillars  of  her  couch.1'' 

Ivory,  it  is  said,  was  not  much  heard  of  till  the  reign  of  Solo 
mon,  who  caused  it  to  be  brought  from  India  to  Palestine,  where 
it  was  considered  more  precious  than  gold ;  but,  afterwards,  ivory 
beds  and  ivory  palaces  are  frequently  mentioned.  The  beautiful 
statue  carved  by  Pygmalion  of  Cyprus,  is  said  to  have  been  of 


NOT  ES   TO    CANTO   THE   FIFTH.  225 

ivory;  marble,  however,   when  white  and  pure,  was,  it  appears, 
also  called  ivory. 

(14)  "'Twas  written  on  papyrus  of  the  Nile, 

Fragrant  with  rose  ; — as  opening  lotos  white, 
And  gold  and  silver  dust  in  sprinkles  o'er  it  smile.'''' 

This  might  have  been :  the  Greeks,  however,  at  a  later  period, 
wrote  their  letters  on  thin  smooth  tablets  of  wood,  neatly  covered 
with  wax ;  these  were  wrapped  in  linen,  and  sealed  with  the  wax 
of  Asia. 

According  to  Sir  William  Jones  and  others,  the  manuscripts  of 
the  modern  Persians  are  sprinkled  with  dust  of  gold  and  silver. 
These,  as  well  as  those  of  the  Arabians,  are  so  very  beautiful  that 
those  accustomed  to  them  dislike  to  look  on  printed  copies. 

As  there  are  many  lovers  of  poetry  who  are  not  profound  scholars, 
the  following  extract  from  an  entertaining  work  may  not  be  un 
acceptable  : — 

"  Les  tablettes  des  Grecs  etaient  des  tables  de  bois,  et  enduites 
de  cire :  on  y  ecrivait  avec  un  petit  stylet  de  cuivre,  de  fer,  ou 
d'or,  pointu  d'un  cote  et  plat  de  1'autre  ;  ce  dernier  bout  servait  a 
effacer.  Les  Grecs  portaient  a  la  ceinture  un  etui  nomine  graphi- 
arium  ou  etaient  reriferm^s  ce  stylet  et  ces  tablettes. 

66  Les  lettres  que  les  particuliers  s'ecrivaient  etaient  sur  des 
tables  de  bois  mince,  deliees,  et  enduites  de  cire,  que  Ton  en- 
veloppait  de  lin,  et  que  Ton  cachetait  de  craie,  ou  de  cire  d'Asie. 
Alatete  deleurs  lettres  ils  mettaient,  ces  mots — *Joie  et  prosperite :' 
a  leur  fin  cette  autre  formale — ( Portez  vous  bien,  soyez  heureux.' 
Les  Atheniens  mettaient,  apres  leurs  noms,  dans  leur  signature, 
celui  de  leurs  peres,  et  les  pays  de  leur  naissance ;  par  example : 
4  Demosthene  de  Peanee  fils  deDemosthene.' " —  Voyages  d'Antenor. 

(15)  "  But  as  the  date  tree  sees  her  blossoms  die." 

The  palm  tree  is  said,  by  a  learned  writer,  to  be  "  the  most 
curious  and  interesting  subject  which  the  science  of  natural  history 

Q 


226  NOTES   TO   CANTO   THE   FIFTH. 

involves."  However  that  may  be,  the  most  eminent  naturalists, 
ancient  and  modern,  have  apparently  taken  pleasure  in  describing 
it.  A  very  fall  and  satisfactory  account  of  this  surprising  vegetable 
is  to  be  found  in  the  <  Amoenitates  Exoticae '  of  Kaempfer. 

(16)  .  "  Not  the  string 

Of  Metes'  sandal — scarf  about  his  waist-" 
Or  feather  for  his  arrows — was  a  thing 
More  wholly  Ms  than  she.19 

The  old  Neanthes  appears  to  suppose  this  destructive  passion  to 
be  no  fault  of  his  mistress ;  but  thinks  her  inspired  with  it  by  their 
goddess,  as  a  punishment  for  former  neglect*  Racine,  in  his  tra 
gedy  of  Phedre,  extenuates  the  crimes  of  that  Queen  by  a  similar 
supposition. 


CANTO  THE  SIXTH. 


BRIDAL  OF  HELON. 


ARGUMENT. 


Twilight.  —  Egla  alone  in  her  grove  of  acacias.  —  Zophiel  returns 
wounded  and  dejected,  and  sits  watching  her  invisibly. — A  being, 
who  wishes  to  preserve  Egla,  perceives  that  she  is  beset  with 
dangers. — Zame'ia  dies  in  attempting  the  life  of  Egla.— Egla  is 
reproached  by  a  slave  :  faints  and  is  supported  by  Helon  ;  Helon 
and  Hariph  bear  her  home. — Egla,  about  to  destroy  herself,  is  saved 
by  Helon,  who  receives  her  in  marriage,  and  puts  Zophiel  to  flight, 
by  means  of  a  carneol  box. — Hariph  discovers  himself  to  be  the 
angel  Raphael ;  seeks  Zophiel  in  the  deserts  of  Ethiopia;  and  speaks 
to  kim  of  hope  and  comfort. 


CANTO  THE  SIXTH. 


BRIDAL  OF  HELON. 


I. 
8wEET  is  the  evening  twilight ;  but,  alas  I 

There's  sadness  in  it :  day's  light  tasks  are  done, 
And  leisure  sighs  to  think  how  soon  must  pass 

Those  tints  that  melt  o'er  heaven,  O  setting  sun, 


And  look  like  heaven  dissolved.     A  tender  flush 

Of  blended  rose  and  purple  light,  o'er  all 
The  luscious  landscape  spreads,  like  pleasure's  blush, 

And  glows  o'er  wave,  sky,  flower,  cottage,  and  palm- 
tree  tall. 

II. 
'Tis  now  that  solitude  has  most  of  pain  : 

Vague  apprehensions  of  approaching  night 
Whisper  the  soul,  attuned  to  bliss,  and  fain 

To  find  in  love  equivalent  for  light. 


230  CANTO   THE   SIXTH. 

III. 
The  bard  has  sung,  God  never  formed  a  soul 

Without  its  own  peculiar  mate,  to  meet  (1) 
Its  wandering  half,  when  ripe  to  crown  the  whole 

Bright  plan  of  bliss,  most  heavenly,  most  complete  ! 

IV. 

But  thousand  evil  things  there  are  that  hate 
To  look  on  happiness ;  these  hurt,  impede, 

And  leagued  with  time,  space,  circumstance,  and  fate, 
Keep  kindred  heart  from  heart  to  pine  and  pant  and  bleed. 


And  as  the  dove  to  far  Palmyra  flying 
From  where  her  native  founts  of  Antioch  beam, 

Weary,  exhausted,  longing,  panting,  sighing, 
Lights  sadly  at  the  desert's  bitter  stream, — 


So  many  a  soul  o'er  life's  drear  desert  faring, 
Love's  pure  congenial  spring  unfound — unquaff'd — 

Suffers — recoils — then,  thirsty  and  despairing 
Of  what  it  would,  descends  and  sips  the  nearest  draught. 

V. 
*Tis  twilight  in  fair  Egla's  grove,  her  eye 

Is  sad  and  wistful ;  while  the  hues  that  glint 
In  soft  profusion  o'er  the  molten  sky, 

O'er  all  her  beauty  spread  a  mellower  tint. 


BRIDAL   OF   HELON.  231 

VI. 

And  form'd,  in  every  fibre,  for  such  love 

As  heaven  not  yet  had  given  her  to  share,  (2) 

Through  the  deep  shadowy  vistas  of  her  grove 
Sent  looks  of  wistfulness  ;  no  Spirit  there 

!  Jns ; 
Appears  as  wont ;  for  many  a  month  so  long 

He  had  not  left  her ;  what  could  so  detain  ? 
She  took  her  lute  and  tuned  it  for  a  song, 

The  while  spontaneous  words  accord  them  to  a  strain, 


Taught  by  enamoured  Zophiel ;  softly  heaving 
The  while  her  heart,  thus  from  its  inmost  core 

Such  feelings  gush'd,  to  Lydian  numbers  weaving, 
As  never  had  her  lip  expressed  before. 


VII. 

SONG. 

Day,  in  melting  purple  dying, 
Blossoms,  all  around  me  sighing, 
Fragrance,  from  the  lilies  straying, 
Zephyr,  with  my  ringlets  playing, 

Ye  but  waken  my  distress  : 
I  am  sick  of  loneliness. 


232  CANTO    THE   SIXTH. 


Thou  to  whom  I  love  to  hearken, 

Come,  ere  night  around  me  darken  ; 

Though  thy  softness  but  deceive  me,  uoTff 

Say  thou'rt  true  and  I'll  believe  thee  ; 

Veil,  if  ill,  thy  soul's  intent, 

Let  me  think  it  innocent ! 

Save  thy  toiling,  spare  thy  treasure  : 
All  I  ask  is  friendship's  pleasure : 
Let  the  shining  ore  lie  darkling, 
Bring  no  gem  in  lustre  sparkling ; 

Gifts  and  gold  are  nought  to  me ; 

I  would  only  look  on  thee  ! 

Tell  to  thee  the  high-wrought  feeling, 

Ecstacy  but  in  revealing ; 

Paint  to  thee  the  deep  sensation, 

Rapture  in  participation, 

Yet  but  torture,  if  comprest 
In  a  lone  unfriended  breast. 

Absent  still  ?     Ah !  come  and  bless  me ! 

Let  these  eyes  again  caress  thee ; 

Once,  in  caution,  I  could  fly  thee ; 

Now,  I  nothing  could  deny  thee : 

In  a  look  if  death  there  be, 
Come  and  I  will  gaze  on  thee ! 


BRIDAL   OF    HELON.  233 

VIII. 
An  unknown  spirit,  who  for  many  a  year 

Had  mark'd,  in  Helon,  passing  excellence, 
And  loved  to  watch  o'er  Egla  too,  came  near 

This  eve ;  but  other  cares  had  long  time  kept  him  hence. 

IX. 

A  lute-chord  sounds:  hark  !  for  a  tender  hymn 
To  bear  to  heaven,  he  pauses  in  his  flight; 

Alas  !  it  is  not  heaven  that  lends  her  theme  I 
Nay,  if  he  leave  her  she  is  lost  to  night. 

x. 

He  starts ;  he  looks  through  the  light  trembling  shade 
And  fears  his  coming,  even  now,  too  late : 

What  varied  perils  have  beset  the  maid ! 
She  verges  to  the  crisis  of  her  fate. 

XI. 

He  gazes  on  her  guileless  face  and  grieves ; 

There's  treachery  even  in  her  own  lute's  sound ; 
And  things  his  heavenly  sense  alone  perceives, 

Unseen  amidst  the  flowers  are  lurking  all  around. 

XII. 
And  Zophiel  too,  late  from  the  deep  return'd 

In  such  a  state  'twas  piteous  but  to  see, 
Watch'd  near  the  maid  whose  love  he  fain  had  earn'd, 

By  fiercer  torments  still,  invisibly. 


234  CANTO   THE   SIXTH. 

XIII. 
His  wings  were  folded  o'er  his  eyes ;  severe 

As  was  the  pain  he'd  borne  from  wave  and  wind, 
The  dubious  warning  of  that  Being  drear, 

Who  met  him  in  the  lightning,  to  his  mind 


Was  torture  worse :  a  dark  presentiment 
Came  o'er  his  soul  with  paralyzing  chill, 

As  when  fate  vaguely  whispers  her  intent 

To  poison  mortal  joy  with  sense  of  pending  ill. 

XIV. 

He  search'd  about  the  grove  with  all  the  care 
Of  trembling  jealousy,  as  if  to  trace 

By  track  or  wounded  flower  some  rival  there ; 
And  scarcely  dared  to  look  upon  the  face 


Of  her  he  loved,  lest  it  some  tale  might  tell 
To  make  the  only  hope  that  sooth'd  him  vain  : 

He  hears  her  notes  in  numbers  die  and  swell, 
But  almost  fears  to  listen  to  the  strain 


Himself  had  taught  her;  lest  some  hated  name 
Had  been  with  that  dear,  gentle  air  enwreathed, 

While  he  was  far;  she  sigh'd, — he  nearer  came  ; 
Oh,  transport !  Zophiel  was  the  name  she  breathed. 


BRIDAL   OF   HELON.  235 

XV. 

He  saw  but  her ;  and  thought  her  all  alone ; — 
His  name  was  on  her  lip, — in  hour  like  this ; — 

And  doating — drinking  every  look  and  tone — 
Paused,  ere  he  would  advance,  for  very  bliss. 

XVI. 
The  joy  of  a  whole  mortal  life  he  felt 

In  that  one  moment.     Now,  too  long  unseen, 
He  fain  had  shown  his  beauteous  form  and  knelt, 

But,  while  he  still  delayed,  a  mortal  rushed  between. 

XVII. 
Tall  was  her  form ;  her  quivering  lip  was  pale ; 

Long  streamed  her  hair,  and  glared  her  wild  dark  eye ; 
And  grasping  Egla's  arm  : — '  no  arts  avail 

Thee  now : — vile  murderess  of  my  Meles, — die  !' 


She  said ; — her  dagger  at  soft  Egla's  breast 
Touch'd  the  white  folded  robe — but  strength  and  breath 

Failing  at  once,  that  frenzied  arm  arrest 

And  falling  to  the  earth,  Zamei'a  groaned  in  death. 

XVIII. 
This  Orpha  saw,  a  slave,  a  sullen  maid, 

But  beautiful,  whose  glance  Rosanes  caught, 
While  yet  the  captives  at  the  palace  stayed, 

And,  secretly  carest,  until  he  taught 


236  CANTO   THE   SIXTH. 


The  haughty  girl,  impatient  of  her  fate, 

A  hope  that  gave  her,  in  her  lowliness, 
The  wild  ambition  of  a  higher  state  ; — 

But  who  can  paint  the  depth  of  her  distress, 

When  he  had  gone  to  seek  the  dangerous  bride ; 

And  when  the  following  morn  his  death  revealM  ? 
Hate,  envy,  love,  sorrow,  hopes  crush'd — all  vied 

To  nurture  the  revenge  her  withering  heart  concealed. 

XIX. 

'Twas  she  who  told  Zamei'a  of  the  doom 

Of  her  loved  Mede,  and  led  her  to  the  breast 

She  burn'd  to  pierce  ; — now  from  her  heart  of  gloom 
Burst  the  deep  smouldering  rage,  thus  bitterly  expressed : 

XX. 

"  Another  murder  !  sorceress  to  me 

Tell  not  a  spirit  did  it :— I  know,  well, 
What  wanton  thing  thou  art ; — was't  not  by  thee, 

Rosanes,  Meles,  young  Altheetor  fell  ? 

"  Lured  by  thine  arts  to  glut  a  love  as  dread 

As  that  fell  queen's,*  who  every  morning  spilt 
The  separate  life  that  warm'd  her  nightly  bed; — 

Closing,  with  death's  cold  seal,  lips  that  might  tell  her 
guilt." 

*  Serairarais. 


BRIDAL   OF    HELON.  237 

XXI. 

Then  came  Neantes,  knelt,  and  bathed  with  tears, 
The  lost  Zameia's  form  ;  'twas  dim  and  cold, — 

But  the  strong  cast  of  beauty  still  appears, 

Though  o'er  her  brow  the  last  chill  dews  had  roll'd. 

XXII. 
And,  as  he  held  the  taper  hand  in  his 

Of  his  loved  mistress  (with  a  piteous  look 
On  Egla  cast),  his  sole  reproach  was  this  : — 

Half  check' d  by  rising  sobs  that  burst  forth  as  he  spoke  : 

XXIII. 
"  Oh  !  warm  with  health  and  beauty  as  thou  art 

Couldst  thou  have  seen  her  as  I  have, — then  reft 
Of  all ; — and  known  the  torments  of  her  heart, 

Thou  hadst  not  ta'en  what  little  life  was  left." 

XXIV. 

The  attempted  deed ; — the  scene ; — the  bitter  word ; — 
Like  knot  of  serpents,  each  with  separate  sting, 

Pierced,  each  and  all,  more  keenly  than  a  sword, 
Through  Egla's  heart  that  bled  while  answering : 


"  Cease  ! — cease  ! — I  kill'd  her  not ! — nor  knew  such  one 
There  lived  on  earth.     Alas  !  her  purpose  rough, 

Would  to  high  heaven,  ere  she  had  died,  were  done  ! — 
Oh  !  power  that  form'd  me,  was  it  not  enough 


238  CANTO    THE   SIXTH. 

"  To  bear  perpetual  solitude  and  gloom  ? — 
Must  I  too  live  a  theme  of  foul  reproach 

To  stanger  and  to  slave  ! — the  tomb,  the  tomb, 
Is  all  I  ask — oh  !  do  I  ask  too  much  ?" — 

XXV. 

She  said  and  swoon'd :  so  Helon,  not  in  vain, 

Searched  wandering  for  his  guide  (he  knew  not  whither), 

To  lead  him  to  the  gates  of  Ecbatane  ; 
And  haply,  though  unseen,  his  guide  had  led  him  hither. 

XXVI. 

He  saw  Zamei'a  on  the  earth  laid  low ; 

And  Egla  faint,  but  fresh  in  all  her  charms, 
Had  sunk  beside  the  corse  for  weight  of  woe, 

But  for  the  timely  aid  of  his  receiving  arms. 

XXVII. 

The  groupe — the  dead — the  form  his  arms  sustain — 
The  trembling  leaves — the  twilight's  fading  gleam — 

Confuse ; — the  youth  distrusts  both  eye  and  brain, — 
For,  'gainst  his  heart,  he  sees  the  image  of  his  dream. 

XXVIII. 
But  faithful  Hariph  soon  was  at  his  side, 

In  search  of  whom  had  Helon  chanced  to  roam ; 
"  Ask  nothing,  youth,  but  haste  with  me;"  he  cried, 

"  Life  has  not  left  the  maiden  :  bear  her  home*" 


BRIDAL   OF   HELON.  239 

XXIX. 

They  laid  her  on  her  couch  ,•  and  in  her  sire 

Found  him  they  sought,  and  in  her  dwelling  stayed. 

Sephora  sat  her  by  the  perfume  fire, 

All  night,  and  watch'd  her  child  ,• — yet  sore  afraid 


Of  her  enamoured  Spirit ;  well  she  knew 
The  presence  of  a  mortal  vex'd  his  will, — 

And  mused  on  Helon's  youth  ;  and  could  but  view, 
In  thought,  another  scene  of  death  and  ill. 

XXX. 

Egla  lay  drown'd  in  grief,  and  could  not  speak, 
But  calm'd  at  morn  the  tumult  of  her  breast, 

And  kiss'd  her  mother  thrice ;  then  bade  her  seek, 
And  warn,  and  save  from  death,  the  stranger  guest. 

XXXI. 

And  through  her  window  when  the  deepening  glows 

Of  pensive  twilight  told  another  day 
Was  spent,  to  bathe  that  fatal  form,  she  rose, 

Bound  cincture  o'er  her  robe,  and  sent  her  maids  away. 

xxxri. 

Alone  she  thought  how  Helon  had  sustained 

And  saved,  for  his  own  doom,  her  fatal  breath ; — 

Zamei'a — Orpha  too — why  still  remain'd 
Her  own  scorn*  d  life  the  cause  of  so  much  death  ? 


240  CANTO    THE    SIXTH. 

XXXIII. 
She  could  not  pray ;  and  to  her  aching  eye 

Would  come  no  sweet  relief,  no  wonted  tear ; 
For  one  of  those  dark  things  that  lurk'd,  was  by, 

And  whispered  thoughts  of  horror  in  her  ear. 

XXXIV. 

Then  on  his  sad  unguarded  victim  fix'd ; 

And  coldly,  to  her  wounded  bosom's  core, 
Infused  him  like  some  fell  disease,  and  mix'd 

His  being  with  her  blood ;  all  hope  was  o'er — 


All  fear — all  nature — all  was  bitterness  ; 

She  felt  her  heart  within  her  like  a  clod  ; — 
And  when,  at  length,  the  sullen  deep  distress 

Found  utterance,  thus  she  spoke  ungrateful  to  her  God. 

XXXV. 

"  Was  but  my  infant  life  for  tortures  worse 

Than  flame  or  sword  preserved  ? — on  me — on  me — • 

Falls  the  whole  burthen  of  my  nation's  curse  ?— 
Of  all  offence  I  bear  the  misery. 

XXXVI. 

"  Oh  !  power  that  made,  thou'st  been  profuse  of  pain 
.<  And  I  have  borne — but  now  is  past  the  hour; — 
I  ask  no  mitigation — that  were  vain  : — 
Wreak,  wreak  on  me  thy  whole  avenging  power ! 


BRIDAL   OF    MELON.  241 

XXXVII. 
"  Yet,  wherefore  more  the  doom  I  wish  delay  ? 

Dissolve  me ! — oh  1  as  earth  I  was  before, 
Change  this  fair-coloured  form  to  silent  grey, 

And  let  my  weary  organs  feel  no  more." 

XXXVIII. 

She  paused—"  'Tis  written  thus:  «  Thou  shalt  not  kill.' 

Yet  deeper  were  the  crime  to  keep  a  life 
Torture  to  me,  to  others  death  and  ill ; 

So  in  thy  presence,  God,  I  end  my  nature's  strife !" 

XXXIX. 

Then  from  her  waist  she  took  the  girdle  blue, 

Look'd  on  the  world  without,  but  breathed  no  sigh  ; 
Then  calmly  o'er  the  window's  carving  threw 

That  scarf,  and  round  her  neck  wound  thrice  the  silken 
tie. 

XL. 

Where,  in  that  hour,  was  Zophiel  ?     All  in  vain 
He  burns  with  love  and  jealous  rage  impell'd  : 

With  the  dark  Being  of  the  storm  again 

He  strives  and  struggles  in  the  grove,  withheld 


From  her  he  loves.     He'd  seen  her  borne  away, 
Even  before  his  eyes ;  and  now,  perforce, 

Could  only  look  where,  newly-murdered,  lay 
The  lost  Zamei'a's  pale  and  breathless  corse. 


'242  CANTO    THE   SIXTH. 

XLI. 
Whichever  spirit  conquers  in  the  strife, 

Alas  for  Egla  !  now  her  hands  entwine 
The  guilty  knot — she  springs.     "  Hold,  hold  1  thy  life, 

Maiden,  is  not  thine  own,  but  God's  and  mine!" 

XLII. 
'Twas  Helen's  voice  ;  but  still  the  legate  fiend, 

Reluctant  to  resign  her,  would  not  part ; 
But  by  his  secret,  subtle  nature  screen'd, 

Even  from  Spirits,  through  her  brain  and  heart 


Darted  like  pain.     The  youth,  with  firm  embrace, 

Holds  and  protects  ;  but,  writhing,  vex'd,  and  thrown, 

She  could  not  even  look  upon  his  face, 
And  answer'd  all  he  said  but  with  a  moan. 

XLlII. 
Helon  bent  o'er  and  murmur'd,  "  Calm  those  fears  : 

To  be  my  bride  already  art  thou  given ! 
And  I  am  he  who,  in  thy  childish  years, 

Was  in  thy  grove  announced  to  thee  by  heaven." 

XLIV. 
She  seem'd  to  listen  :  soon  her  moans  were  hush'd; 

She  caught  his  words  thus  suffering  and  possest ; 
From  her  torn  heart  a  grateful  torrent  gush'd, 

And  love  expelled  the  Demon  from  her  breast. 


BRIDAL   OF    HELON.  243 

XLV. 

Still  Helon  held,  and  sooth'd,  and  timely  drew 
Near  to  the  vase  of  perfumes  nightly  burning, 

And,  from  his  open  box  of  carneol,  threw 
All  it  contain'd.     'Twas  well: — Zophiel  returning 


That  moment  'scaped  from  him  whose  malice  held, 
RushM  fiercely  anxious  to  a  scene  of  love 

Approved  by  heaven — oh  !  torture !  he  beheld 
A  stranger's  arms  entwine  !     Eager  to  prove 


That  power  to  mortal  rival  late  so  fell : 
Enough  had  been  a  moment  for  his  ire ; 

But  a  strange  force  he  vainly  strove  to  quell. 
Insufferable,  from  the  perfume  fire, 


Rush'd  forth,  resistless  as  his  maker's  breath  : 
And  when  he  fain  would  place  him  by  the  bed 

Which,  but  to  touch,  had  been  gay  Meles'  death, 
He  felt  him  hurl'd  away,  uttered  a  shriek,  and  fled, 

XLVI. 
But  Helon  lives,  supporting  still  the  maid 

Overwhelmed  with  hopes  and  fears,  and  all  o'erspent 
With  recent  pain ;  "  Didst  hear  that  shriek  ?"  he  said, 

"  The  Sprite  has  left  us :  kneel  with  me !"  They  knelt 


244  CANTO   THE   SIXTH. 


Them  both  to  earth,— the  bridegroom  and  his  bride, 
So  fill'd  with  present  joy,  the  past  was  dim  ; — 

'Twas  rapture  now,  whatever  might  betide, 

And  pain  to  her  were  bliss,  so  it  were  shared  with  him, 

LXVII. 
Then  prayed  he  :  "  Heaven,  if  either  have  offended 

Punish  us  now  !  avenge !  but  with  one  breath 
Let  our  so-late-united  lives  be  ended  I 

Let  her  be  mine — and  give  me  life  or  death!" 

XLVIII. 
Then  she :  "  If  now  I  die,  I  die  his  wife, 

And  fully  blest,  O  heaven  !  await  my  doom  ! 
Nor  would  exchange  for  thousand  years  of  life 

The  dearer  privilege  to  share  his  tomb. 

XLIX. 
"  Yet,  if  we  die  not, — Maker,  to  him  give 

Light  from  thy  source — so  shall  my  sin  be  less 
In  thine  account — for  oh  !  I  ne'er  can  live 

Other,  with  him,  than  his  idolatress." 

L. 

"  Let  me  adore  thy  image  as  I  gaze 

On  her  fair  eyes  now  raised  with  mine  to  thee ; 
And  let  her  find,  while  flow  our  years  and  days, 

To  feed  her  love  some  spark  of  thee  in  me/' 


BRIDAL   OF   HELON.  245 

LI. 

(He  said):  "Thus,  as  we  kneel,  no  wild  desire 
Blends  with  our  voices  in  unhallowed  sighs  : 

Spirit,  to  thee  we  quench  the  nuptial  fire — 
Look  down  propitious  on  the  sacrifice ! 

LII. 
**  Receive  it  as  a  token  that  our  love 

is  of  the  soul ; — and  if  our  lives  endure, 
Spirit,  who  sit'st  diffusing  life  above, 

Look  on  our  union,  and  pronounce  it  pure !" 

LI  1 1. 
While  thus  they  prayed,  Hariph  her  kindred  brought 

To  listen  to  them  ;  thus,  as,  one  by  one, 
Rose  their  heart- offerings,- — sense  subued  by  thought ; 

"  This  borne  to  heaven,"  he  said,  "  my  task  is  done, 

L1V. 

**  Call  me  no  longer  Hariph  :   I  but  took, 

For  love  of  that  young  pair,  this  mortal  guise; 

And  often  have  I  stood,  beside  Heaven's  book, 
And  given  in  record,  there,  their  deeds  and  sighs. 

LV. 
"  From  infancy  I've  watched  them, — far  apart, — 

Oppressed  by  men  and  fiends  ; — yet,  form'd  to  dwell 
8oul  blent  with  soul,  and  beating  heart  'gainst  heart ; 

'Tis  done.— Behold  the  angel  Raphael. 


24G  CANTO   THE   SIXTH. 

LVI. 

"  That  blest  commission,  friend  of  men,  I  bear, 
To  comfort  those  who  undeservedly  mourn  ; 

And  every  good  resolve,  kind  tear,  heart-prayer, 
'Tis  mine  to  show  before  the  Eternal's  throne. 

LVII. 
"  And  oft  I  haste,  and  when  the  good  and  true 

Are  headlong  urged  to  deep  pollution,  save ; 
Just  as  my  wings  receive  some  drops  of  dew, 

Which  else  must  join  Asphaltites'  black  wave/* 

LVIII. 
He  said ;  all  o'er  to  radiant  beauty  warming, 

While  they,  in  doubt  of  what  they  looked  upon, 
Beheld  a  form — dissolving — dazzling — charming — 

But,  ere  their  lips  found  utterance,  it  was  gone.  (3) 

Lix. 
Afar  that  pitying  angel  bent  his  flight, 

In  anxious  search,  revolving  in  his  breast 
Of  a  once-heavenly  brother's  wretched  plight ; — 

Torn  from  his  last  dear  hope,  where  could  he  rest  ? 

LX. 

Hurl'd,  'gainst  his  will,  the  suffering  Zophiel  went 
To  the  remotest  of  Egyptians  bounds  ; 

Demons  pursued  to  view  his  punishment, 

And  with  his  shrieks  the  desert  blast  resounds. 


BRIDAL   OF    HELON.  247 

LXI. 
Dark  shadowy  fiends,  invidious  that  he  joy'd 

In  love  and  beauty  still,  less  deeply  curst 
Than  they,  of  late  had  leagued  them ;  and  employed 

All  arts  to  crush  and  foil.     Now,  as  when  first 

Expell'd  from  heaven  they  saw  him  writhe ;   and  while 
He  groans  and  clasps  the  earth,  sit  them  beside, 

Ask  questions  of  his  bliss,  and  then  with  smile 
Recount  his  baffled  schemes,  and  linger  to  deride. 

LXII. 
And,  when  they  fled,  he  hid  him  in  a  cave, 

Strewn  with  the  bones  of  some  sad  wretch,  who  there, 
Apart  from  men,  had  sought  a  desert  grave, 

And  yielded  to  the  demon  of  despair. 

LXIII. 
There,  beauteous  Zophiel,  shrinking  from  the  ray, 

Envying  the  wretch  that  so  his  life  had  ended, 
Wailed  his  eternity.     He  fain  would  pray, — 

But  could  not  pray  to  one  he  had  offended. 

LXIV. 

The  fiercest  pains  of  death  had  been  relief, 
And  yet  his  quenchless  being  might  not  end. 

Hark  !  Raphael's  voice  breaks  sweetly  on  his  grief: 
"  Hope,  Zophiel !   hope  !  hope !  hope  ! — thou  hast  a 
friend!"  (4) 

Cuba,  Cafetal  San  Andres,  January  1829. 


NOTES 

TO 

CANTO    THE    SIXTH. 


(1)  "  The.  bard  has  sung,  God  never  formed  a  soul 
Without  its  own  peculiar  mate" 

THE  gods  (says  Plato,  in  his  Banquet)  formed  man,  at  first,  of  a 
round  figure,  with  two  bodies  and  two  sexes ;  the  variety  of  his 
powers  rendered  him  so  audacious  that  he  made  war  against  his 
creators.  Jupiter  was  about  to  destroy  him,  but,  reflecting  that 
with  him  the  whole  human  race  must  perish,  the  god  contented 
himself  with  merely  reducing  his  strength.  The  androgyne  was 
accordingly  separated  in  two  parts,  and  Apollo  received  the  order 
of  perfecting  them.  From  that  time  each  part,  though  become  a 
separate  being,  seeks,  desires,  and  feels  a  continual  impulse  to 
meet  the  other. — See  Voyages  d'Antenor,  tome  z,  chap.  22. 

Some  of  the  Jewish  Rabbins  have  entertained  a  similar  opinion  : 
according  to  their  accounts,  Adam  was  created  male  and  female, 
man  on  one  side,  woman  on  the  other,  and  God,  afterwards, 
separated  the  two  forms  that  were  before  united. 

"  Les  androgynes  avoit  deux  sexes,  deux  tetes,  quatre  bras, 
quatre  pieds." — Voyages  d'Antenor, — see  Note  to  vol.  1. 

It  was  evidently  from  such  opinions,  as  well  as  his  own  feelings, 
that  Dr  Watts  conceived  the  idea  of  that  popular  little  poem, 
which  he  has  called  the  "  Indian  Philosopher." 

The  different  accounts  of  creation  are  sufficiently  amusing.  It 
is  said,  in  the  Talmud,  that  God  did  not  wish  to  create  woman, 
because  he  foresaw  that  her  husband  would  very  soon  have  to  com- 


250  NOTES   TO   CANTO   THE   SIXTH. 

plain  of  her  perversity ;  he  therefore  waited  till  Adam  asked  her 
of  him,  and  then  took  every  precaution  to  make  her  as  good  as 
possible.  He  would  not  take  her  from  the  head,  lest  she  should 
have  sufficient  wit  and  spirit  to  become  a  coquette  ;  nor  from  the 
eyes,  lest  she  should  cast  mischievous  glances ;  nor  from  the  mouth, 
lest  she  should  listen  at  doors ;  nor  from  the  heart,  lest  she  should 
be  jealous ;  nor  from  the  hands  or  the  feet,  lest  she  should  be  a  thief 
or  a  runaway ;  but  every  precaution  was  vain  :  she  had  all  these 
defects,  although  drawn  from  the  most  quiet  aud  honest  part  that 
could  possibly  be  found  about  Adam. — This  is  merely  translated 
from  M.  de  Lentier. 

(2)  "  And  formed,  in  every  Jibre,  for  suck  love 
As  heaven  not  yet  had  given  her  to  share.''' 

Souls,  according  to  Plato,  are  rays  of  the  divinity,  which,  ere 
they  are  shut  up  in  the  gross  envelope  of  mortality,  pass  through 
a  state  of  existence,  during  which  an  invincible  attraction  unites 
them,  two  by  two,  and  inflames  them  with  a  love  pure  and  celestial. 
When  embodied  upon  earth,  these  souls,  thus  previously  united, 
continually  seek  and  feel  a  propensity  for  each  other,  and,  unless 
they  are  so  happy  as  to  meet,  can  never  be  animated  by  a  true  and 
genuine  affection. 

(3)  "  He  said  all  o'er  to  radiant  beauty  warming, 

While  they,  in  doubt  of  what  they  looked  upon, 

Beheld  a  form, — dissolving — dazzling — charming — 

But,  ere  their  lips  found  utterance,  it  was  gone." 

Flesh  is  said  to  be  composed  of  carbon,  oxygen,  hydrogen,  and 
nitrogen :  if  men  have  already  been  able  to  discover  its  materials, 
the  power  of  making  and  dissolving  it  at  pleasure,  may,  without 
inconsistency,  be  ascribed  to  beings  so  much  superior  to  them  as 
angels  have  ever  been  thought.  Indeed  the  supposition  of  such  a 
power  is  the  only  thing  that  can  give  the  least  semblance  of  possi 
bility  to  what  has  been  related  of  good  and  evil  angels. 


NOTES   TO   CANTO   THE    SIXTH.  251 

The  following  passage,  extracted  by  Brucker,  from  the  writings 
of  Bonaventura,  looks  as  reasonable  as  anything  which  has  ever 
yet  been  said  concerning  the  mysterious  union  of  spirit  and  body. 
"  The  formal  principles  of  bodies  are  celestial  bodies,  which  by 
their  accession  or  recession  cause  the  production  or  corruption  of 
the  inferior ;  it  may,  therefore,  be  concluded  that  there  is  in  these 
occult  forms  a  capacity  of  being  restored  to  higher  principles, 
namely  celestial  bodies,  or  to  powers  still  higher  than  these-— that 
is,  to  separate  intellectual  substances,  which  in  their  respective 
operations  leave  traces  of  themselves/' 

(4)  «  Hope,  Zopkii'l !  hope  !  hope  !  hope  !  thou  hast  a  friend  /" 

As  Zophiel  appears  to  have  no  evil  propensity,  and  commits  only 
such  crimes  as  are  occasioned  by  the  violence  of  his  love ; 
Raphael  may  think  it  possible  to  induce  him  to  repent,  and  ulti 
mately  obtain  pardon.  Haruth  and  Maruth  were  condemned  for 
a  time  to  inhabit  a  cavern  beneath  the  tower  of  Babel,  with  the 
permission  of  returning  to  heaven  after  a  proper  expiation  of  their 
offences.  Their  appearance  in  this  cavern  is  beautifully  repre 
sented  in  '  Thalaba.'  These  angels,  according  to  the  story,  had 
obtained  while  in  heaven  such  a  reputation  for  wisdom  that  they 
were  sent  on  earth  to  judge  the  whole  race  of  men.  They  soon, 
however,  became  so  enamoured  of  the  beautiful  Zohara  that  she 
obtained  from  them  the  most  holy  of  secrets. 


The  notes  of  Zophiel  were  written  some  in  Cuba,  some  m 
Canada,  some  at  Hanover,  United  States,  some  at  Paris,  and  the 
last  at  Keswick,  England,  under  the  kind  encouragement  of 
Robert  Southey,  Esq. ;  and  near  a  window  which  overlooks  the 
beautiful  lake  Derwent,  and  the  finest  groups  of  those  mountains 
which  encircle  completely  that  charming  valley  where  the  Greta 
winds  over  its  bed  of  clean  pebbles,  looking  as  clear  as  dew. 

April  15,  1831. 


MISCELLANEOUS    PIECES. 


MISCELLANEOUS     PIECES. 


COMPOSED  AT  THE  REQUEST  OF  A  LADY,  AND  DESCRIPTIVE 

OF  HER  FEELINGS. 
SHE  RETURNED  TO  THE  NORTH,  AND  DIED  SOON  AFTER, 


ADIEU,  fair  isle !     I  love  thy  bowers, 
I  love  thy  dark-eyed  daughters  there ; 

The  cool  pomegranate's  scarlet  flowers 
Look  brighter  in  their  jetty  hair. 

They  praised  my  forehead's  stainless  white ; 

And  when  I  thirsted,  gave  a  draught 
From  the  full  clustering  cocoa's  height, 

And  smiling,  blessed  me  as  I  quaff 'd. 

Well  pleased,  the  kind  return  I  gave, 
And,  clasped  in  their  embraces'  twine, 

Felt  the  soft  breeze,  like  Lethe's  wave, 
Becalm  this  beating  heart  of  mine. 

Why  will  my  heart  so  wildly  beat  ? 

Say,  Seraphs,  is  my  lot  too  blest, 
That  thus  a  fitful,  feverish  heat 

Must  rifle  me  of  health  and  rest  ? 


256  MISCELLANEOUS    PIECES. 

Alas  !   I  fear  my  native  snows — 

A  clime  too  cold,  a  heart  too  warm — 

Alternate  chills — alternate  glows — 

Too  fiercely  threat  my  flower-like  form. 

The  orange-tree  has  fruit  and  flowers ; 

The  grenadilla,*  in  its  bloom, 
Hangs  o'er  its  high,  luxuriant  bowers, 

Like  fringes  from  a  Tyrian  loom. 

When  the  white  coffee-blossoms  swell, 
The  fair  moon  full,  the  evening  long, 

I  love  to  hear  the  warbling  bell,f 

And  sun-burnt  peasant's  wayward  song. 


*  The  grenadilla  is  a  melon  produced  from  a  blossom  more  rich 
and  beautiful  than  it  is  easy  to  describe.  Though  much  larger,  it 
resembles  the  cerulean  passion-flower  so  nearly  as  to  seem  of  the 
same  species ;  but  the  leaf  of  its  vine  is  curled,  and  of  a  very 
different  shape. 

•f  The  word  e  warbling'  expresses,  with  more  truth  than  any 
other,  the  sound  which  these  bells  really  produce.  The  dwelling 
where  I  have  listened  to  them  with  most  pleasure,  was  placed 
about  half  a  mile  from  the  road  where  the  Monteros  travelled,  by 
moonlight,  as  they  often  do,  in  Cuba,  to  avoid  the  intense  heat  of 
the  sun.  The  sound  of  their  bells,  heard  at  such  a  distance,  was 
so  soft  and  musical,  that  it  might  have  been  mistaken  for  the 
noise  of  a  small  stream  running  over  a  bed  of  pebbles.  The  even 
ings  were  sometimes  so  calm,  that  many  words  of  their  songs 
distinctly  reached  the  ear. 


MISCELLANEOUS    PIECES.  257 

Drive  gently  on,  dark  muleteer, 

And  the  light  seguidilla  frame : 
Fain  would  I  listen  still,  to  hear 

At  every  close  thy  mistress'  name. 

Adieu,  fair  isle !  the  waving  palm 

Is  pencilled  on  thy  purest  sky ; 
Warm  sleeps  the  bay,  the  air  is  balm, 

And,  soothed  to  languor,  scarce  a  sigli 

Escapes  for  those  I  love  so  well, 

For  those  Pve  loved  and  left  so  long, 

On  me  their  fondest  musings  dwell, 
To  them  alone  my  sighs  belong. 

On,  on,  my  bark !  blow  southern  breeze  ! 

No  longer  would  I  lingering  stay ; 
'Twere  better  far  to  die  with  these 

Than  live  in  pleasure  far  away. 

Cuba,  April  1827. 


258  MISCELLANEOUS    PIECES. 


FROM  GERMAN   VERSES,  BY  BARON  JOSEPH  DE  PALM, 

I  SAW  a  little  pensive  flower, 
So  delicate  in  form  and  hue, 

I  sighed  to  pluck — but  had  not  power, 
For  on  a  rocky  steep  it  grew. 

Beneath  the  rude  uncertain  height 
Awhile  I  stood,  with  soul  and  eyes 

Enchained  by  wonder  and  delight; 
Then,  rushed  to  climb  the  precipice. 

Upon  the  beauteous  prize  intent, 

Wildly  I  plied  both  strength  and  art ; 

But  a  deep  boding  sentiment 
Was  heavy  at  my  anxious  heart. 

Near  to  the  little  flower  I  drew — 
I  almost  gained  the  dangerous  brink  ; 

But  the  old  crag  from  which  it  grew 
And  looked  so  fair  began  to  sink. 

Warm  with  the  hope  which  just  had  birth, 
I  strove  to  clasp — an  effort  gave — 

*Twas  gone — it  sank  into  the  earth, 
And  left  me  but  an  open  grave. 

Paris,  Feb.  9, 1831. 


MISCELLANEOUS    PIECES.  251) 


FROM  GERMAN  VERSES,   BY  BARON  JOSEPH  DE  PALM. 


SLOW  was  the  step  that  drew  me  from 
The  loved  enclosure  of  my  home; 
My  heavy  heart  heaved  with  a  sigh, 
And  gathering  drops  obscured  my  eye. 

I  paused,  amid  the  well-known  track, 
Stood  still  awhile — then  started  back  ; 
A  rose  bent  forth  and  beckoned  me — 
Fondly  I  looked — the  rose  was  she. 

A  nightingale  leaned  from  his  spray 
And  sang  to  me  so  sweet  a  lay, 
That,  lost  in  silent  ecstacy, 
I  turned — the  nightingale  was  she. 

A  little  star,  that,  still  on  high, 
Was  trembling  in  the  morning  sky, 
Bowed,  as  1  looked,  inviting  me 
To  stay — the  little  star  was  she. 

The  sun  that  rose  with  kindly  glow, 
Wrote  with  his  beams :  no  farther  go — 
I  could  but  rest  awhile  to  see — 
Yet,  wherefore  read  ? — the  sun  was  she. 


260  MISCELLANEOUS   PIECES. 

The  plain,  with  more  than  wonted  smile, 
Wooed  me  to  wander  back  awhile ; — 
Gazing  on  dew,  and  flower,  and  bee, 
I  lingered  still — the  plain  was  she. 

Nature  had  caught  me  in  her  arms, 
And  twined  me  in  a  net  of  charms  ; 
I  felt  my  steps  no  longer  free, 
And  stopt  surprised — Nature  was  she. 

All— all  combined — I  faintly  strove, 
Enthralled,  entranced,  I  could  not  move : 
Rose,  nightingale,  star,  sun,  plain,  tree— 
The  whole  sweet  universe  was  she. 


Paris,  Feb.  30,  1833. 


MISCELLANEOUS   PIECES.  261 


SONG. 

Oh,  moon  of  flowers  !  sweet  moon  of  flowers,* 
Why  dost  thou  mind  me  of  the  hours 
Which  flew  so  softly  on  that  night 
When  last  I  saw  and  felt  thy  light  ? 

Oh,  moon  of  flowers  !  thou  moon  of  flowers, 
Would  thou  couldst  give  me  back  those  hours, 
Since  which  a  dull  cold  year  has  fled 
Or  show  me  those  with  whom  they  sped  ! 

Oh,  moon  of  flowers  !  oh,  moon  of  flowers  ! 
In  scenes  afar  were  past  those  hours, 
Which  still  with  fond  regret  I  see, 
And  wish  my  heart  could  change  like  thee  ! 

*  The  savages  of  the  northern  part  of  America  sometimes  count 
by  moons.  May  is  called  by  them  the  moon  of  flowers,  and 
October  the  moon  of  falling  leaves. 

Hanover,  U.S.,  May  1830. 


LONDON: 

PRINTED  BY  C.  AND  W.  REYNELL,  BROAD  STREET,  GOLDEN  SQUARE. 


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